The Accident
by RkieFan
Summary: Jill struggles to survive following a traumatic brain injury that not only leaves her critically injured, but erases five years of her life, causing her to forget all about her life with Mike. Rated M for the first chapter and a future chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers: The characters are the property of Spelling/Goldberg Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended. The story is the property of the author and her twisted imagination. This was my original disclaimer for years and years. I thought I'd go back to it for the first chapter of this story.**

**Summary: Jill Danko suffers a traumatic brain injury following a bus/truck accident.**

**A/N: This is a re-write of one of my earlier stories that I'd posted on .net. It was a favorite among my faithful followers. A common theme in almost 100 percent of my stories is how much angst can I put Mike and Jill Danko through? As it turns out, quite a lot. I think my followers loved this story because it shows the tender side of Mike, which is why we all watched the show. The tenderness between this couple is what I love writing about. This story is rated M for the first chapter and a future chapter. Please read and review.**

**A/N #2: As is par for the course in most of my stories, the chapters are very long.**

**A/N #3: This story takes places after the events of 'Lots of Trees and a Running  
Stream,' which is from Season 2.**

Chapter 1: Before

It was a warm spring night. Mike Danko was sound asleep when he heard a loud boom of thunder which rattled the windows. Knowing her terrified his wife Jill was of storms, he instinctively turned over and reached for her to pull her into the warmth of his arms, only to find her side of the bed empty. He sat up and looked around the darkened bedroom for her.

"Jill?" He called out into the darkness as lightning flashed and thunder once again shook the apartment.

His eyes settled into the corner of the bedroom by their dresser, where he saw something white huddled in the corner. Getting out of bed, he slowly walked over to the wall and knelt down next to Jill, who was huddled so tightly that she would've blended into the wall if she were able to. He reached out to touch her arm, only to have her flinch away from his touch. "Don't touch me!" She shrieked as she curled herself into an even tighter ball.

Mike knew that she'd been dreaming and was probably still dreaming as he pulled the quilt off of their bed and wrapped it around her freezing body. "Baby, it's me," he whispered as he sat beside her and tried to pull her into his arms. "Come on, you're just having a bad dream."

She resisted for a few more minutes before jolting awake as she stared into his eyes. "Mike?" She continued staring at him in confusion.

"Yeah," he smiled as he watched the confusion gradually fade from her eyes. "You were dreaming."

She didn't respond as thunder once again shook the apartment, causing her to jump and grab his pajama shirt. "I hate storms!" She cried as Mike pulled her into his arms and began to rock her, trying to get her body to stop shaking.

"I know," he whispered into her hair as he continued rocking her. "Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?" He looked at her as she suddenly burst into tears. "Baby, it's okay. You're safe now. Nothing's going to hurt you."

He continued holding her and soothing her as if she were a small child. He knew where a lot of these old fears were coming from. 'Cleve Andrews,' he thought with disgust. Jill's former 'boyfriend' had returned a couple of months ago while Mike had been out of town. He had somehow managed to draw Jill back into his web. Convincing her that he was dying, he'd gotten her to feel sorry for him. By the time she realized what his intentions really were, it had almost been too late. Mike and Lt. Ryker had arrived just in the nick of time to save her from getting a bullet in the back of her head. Terry and Willie were still angry about what had happened, feeling that Mike and Jill should've warned them about how dangerous Andrews had been.

Jill's nightmares had always been such a huge part of their relationship, like getting up in the morning or making love on a regular basis. But the nightmares that had started after the episode with Andrews had come to a violent conclusion had been the worst yet. When she had these nightmares, Mike would sometimes spend hours trying to calm her down so that they could go to sleep. She simply couldn't or wouldn't tell Mike what these nightmares were about. All he knew was that they had to be terrifying.

She continued to sob in Mike's arms as the thunderstorm continued to rage outside. The only safety that she'd ever felt in her life had been in his arms and she sometimes felt as if that safety net was going to slip out of her grasp. The nightmares of late had only proved that theory. She wouldn't be able to survive if she ever lost him. "Promise me that you're not going to go away," she looked up into his blue-green eyes.

"Baby, I'm not going anywhere," he promised as he tightened his arms around her. "Why do you think that I'm going somewhere? Please tell me what you were dreaming about."

"You went away," she began in a tear-choked voice as fresh tears streamed down her face. "You went back to Vietnam."

He sighed as he held her trembling body closer to him. She hadn't had dreams about Vietnam for a long time. He closed his eyes as he tried to think. "Baby, I'm not going back over there. You know that. The war's been over for me for a long time. I'm not going back."

"You'd left and your helicopter got shot down," she sniffled as she wiped her eyes. "The chaplain came to the door and told me that since you were dead that I was going to have to go back to live with my father. He said it was because I was a minor. I argued with him that I wasn't a minor!" She cried out as she began crying again.

"That's true, you're not," he agreed as he smiled down at her.

"Then my father came inside and told me, 'Jilly Kate, you come with me. I've got a surprise for you.' I started screaming at him to leave me alone! The chaplain took out a pair of handcuffs and handcuffed me to him and then he told Willie and Terry to take me to my father's house. He said that I was going to stay there from now on," she began to cry harder as he pulled her even closer to him.

"Baby, it was just a dream. I'm here and I'm very much alive. A chaplain wouldn't have handcuffs and he certainly wouldn't force you to go with your father. Can I ask a question? Why are you so afraid of storms?" She reacted with such blind terror that it made him feel guilty for asking.

"Please don't ask me that, Mike."

"I'm so sorry," he took her face in his hands and gently kissed her. He smiled as he felt her arms go around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. "Why don't I go into the other room and make us some tea?"

"Tea?" She asked, somewhat disappointed as she looked at him.

"Yeah, it'll help us relax and then we can go back to sleep. Come on," he held his hand out to her as she took it and let him pull her to her feet, as well.

"Mike, I'm sorry. I know that you have to get up early in the morning . . . "

"Stop," he put a finger on her lips. "I don't see anything wrong with holding the woman that I love in my arms, as I help her cope with nightmares and thunderstorms."

"Sometimes they're one and the same," she jumped into his arms as thunder boomed again.

He led her into the living room and settled her on the sofa as he went into the kitchen and put the tea kettle on to boil. She sat on the sofa, still wrapped in the quilt from their bed and watched as he took two mugs from the cabinet and placed tea bags in each one. She loved him so much that she felt sometimes as if her heart was going to burst. Until she'd met him, she'd never known that it was possible to love somebody that much and she knew that he was equally as in love with her. 'He'd have to be,' she thought, 'to put up with night after night of screaming in the night.' She couldn't even remember how she'd ended up in the corner of their bedroom. Every time before when she'd had a nightmare, she'd usually cried out or screamed from their bed. She hadn't walked in her sleep since she was a kid.

Mike walked over with two steaming mugs of tea and handed one of them to Jill. She pressed her hands around the mug, enjoying the warmth as he opened the quilt and pulled it around the two of them. "Better?" He asked as she smiled and cuddled closer to him.

"Much," she slowly sipped her tea, enjoying its warmth and the warmth of being close to Mike in the patterned quilt. It almost, but not quite, made her forget the terror of the storm and her earlier nightmare.

They'd almost finished their tea when a huge flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a giant crash of thunder. Jill jumped as the lights flickered briefly and then went out, plunging them into total darkness. "Great," he mumbled as he untangled the quilt and got to his feet. "Stay here and I'll go find the flashlight."

"Mike?" She called out as he turned to look at her. "We don't need lights to just go back to bed."

"That's true, we don't. Are you sure?"

"I'm not going to be able to sleep as long as the storm's going on."

He smiled as he helped her to her feet and took her hand, leading her back to their bedroom. The only illumination in the room were the intermittent flashes of lightning that came through the bedroom window. She lay down on the bed and pulled him down next to her. They began kissing as he reached down and unbuttoned the buttons on her gown before reaching inside and caressing her bare skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered as his lips traveled down her neck to her collar bone.

She writhed and moaned under his expert touch. She could feel his arousal against her leg as she reached down to touch him through his pajama bottoms. She smiled as she heard his moan of approval. She sat up as he raised her gown over her head and tossed it to the floor, before lying back down and pulling her close to him once again. He began traveling down her body, teasing her along the way. She gasped out loud as his fingers touched her intimately. She still found it hard to believe how he could make her body almost immediately respond to his touch.

She impatiently unbuttoned his pajama shirt with shaking fingers before yanking it off of his body as Mike smiled. "Why do you always do this?" She was breathless as she finally succeeded in removing the garment from his body.

"Do what?" He innocently asked her as he continued touching her.

"You know what I'm talking about," she writhed under him. "You make it so that I can't think."

"I thought that was the whole idea," he answered back as he kissed her hungrily. "Do you want me to take off the rest of my clothes?" He whispered in her ear.

"I think that would be a very good idea," she tried to catch her breath as he stood up and removed his pajama bottoms before rejoining her on the bed. She reached down and wrapped her hand around him as she lightly stroked him, smiling broadly at his sudden sharp intake of breath.

"You're enjoying this very much, aren't you?" He groaned in ecstasy as she brushed his tip with her thumb.

"Oh, I'm enjoying this very much, but I think that as much as I'm enjoying touching you, there's something that I want even more," she pulled him closer as she guided him into her.

The two of them moved together as the storm continued to rage outside. But at the moment, the storm was the furthest thing from Jill's mind. Right now the only thing on her mind was the peak that was beginning to build in the deep recesses of her body. At first, it had only been a spark, but that spark soon burst into full flame, as she held Mike tighter to her as she cried out his name over and over as she felt his release deep inside of her.

He'd just moved off of her onto his side of the bed when the lights came back on. "I think that I found a cure for thunderstorms," he smiled as he cuddled her closer to him.

"Nightmares, too," she yawned sleepily as she tightened her arms around him and drifted off to sleep.

***MJMJMJ***

The next morning Mike was already in Roll Call when Terry and Willie came slouching in. Mike looked at them in wonder as they their seats on either side of him. "Did you hear the storm last night?" Terry asked as he opened his notebook and prepared for the morning briefing.

"Yeah, it knocked the power out for a little while," Mike answered as Lt. Ryker walked into the room.

"I know. That's why we're late. Our alarm clocks didn't go off. Why didn't you call or at least bang on the door?" Willie accused as he looked at his two friends.

"I'm sorry," Mike apologized as Ryker stepped behind the lectern and began the morning briefing.

He knew that his two friends were still upset over the incident that had transpired with Cleve a couple of months earlier. They both felt that they'd been misled into believing that Cleve was something that he wasn't. Mike had simply not felt that Cleve presented that big of a threat, an almost fatal mistake on his part.

At the hospital, Jill was having lunch with one of her co-workers, Jackie Greenfield. "I saw Mike dropping you off this morning. Is he picking you up this afternoon?" Jacked asked as she opened her lunch bag and removed her lunch.

"No, I told him that I'd take the bus. That way, he doesn't have to rush to leave work. It'll still bring us home at around the same time," she said as she began eating her own lunch.

Several blocks away in a neighborhood tavern, Albert Cummings sat at the bar, nursing a beer. In a few hours, his path would tragically intersect with Jill's. But for now, he was enjoying his beer. His work truck was parked in the parking lot.

Albert Cummings was known as a legend on his job, but unfortunately, not in a good way. His job was currently on the line after several incidences of showing up on the job drunk. If he hadn't been friends with his current foreman, he probably would've been fired long ago.

It was just after four o'clock when Albert realized that he was late to make a delivery. He signaled the bartender and pulled out his wallet to pay his tab. "Let me call you a cab, Al," the bartender offered.

"I'm okay," he said as he laid his money on the bar. "I have to get going. I'll see you tomorrow."

***MJMJMJ***

Jill always carried a paperback tucked away in her purse during the bus rides to and from work. It saved her from having to have meaningless conversations with strangers. But today, her thoughts were focused on the night before. Mike had been so tender and loving. He was always able to erase those memories from her past that always tried to pull her back in. He could make those nightmares go away, at least for a little while. She was always grateful for that. She never in a million years thought that it'd be possible for her to love anybody as much as she loved him. As much as she was always teasing him about being a pest, she was glad that he'd been as persistent as he'd been in winning over her heart, which she'd always thought was a closed book.

The bus was stopped at a red light. When the light turned green, the bus began moving through the intersection. Jill heard someone gasp in horror. When she looked out of the opposite window, she saw a large truck running the light and barreling toward the bus at full speed. The bus driver laid down on the horn, but the truck just kept coming. It collided with the bus in a loud explosion of twisted metal and broken glass. The bus seats seemed to telescope from the front of the bus toward the back. Jill froze as the seats slammed into her. That was when her world faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimers: I don't own 'The Rookies.' But, maybe someday.**

**Summary: Mike learns the extent of Jill's injuries following the bus accident as she begins a struggle to survive.**

Chapter 2: The Accident

Mike was in the locker room getting dressed to go home when Rico Zaccharias entered the room. Jill had once commented that Rico was one of those guys where the lights were on, but nobody was home. He was a nice enough guy and a good cop, just a bit on the flaky side. "Hey, Danko, you've been to Paris, haven't you?" Rico asked as he opened his locker door and removed his uniform.

"Yeah, I spent part of my childhood there. Why?" He asked as he tied his shoes.

"My wife brought home all of these brochures from this travel agency. We're supposed to be going away for a second honeymoon," Rico explained. "Anyway, she left the brochure for Paris on top of the stack. Do you think that's a hint?"

"Rico, you've been married for 15 years!" Mike laughed. "If you can't decipher your wife's hints by now, you're probably a lost cause."

"Have you ever taken Jill to Paris?"

"Jill's more of the 'bikini on the beach' type," Mike smiled. "I thought that you were going to Greece, anyway. Remember the whole 'land of my ancestors' speech?"

"She worries about bumping into some of my relatives. She says she keeps having flashbacks of our wedding."

"Take her to Paris. She'll love it. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Mike. Thanks."

Mike ran into Terry and Willie in the lobby. "What're you two still doing here? I was on my way to hopefully catch Jill before she takes the bus home."

"Overtime," Terry explained. "We need the bread."

"Gillis! Webster!" Ryker bellowed from the Watch Commander's doorway. "There's been a major traffic accident! I need you two to help with traffic control!"

"Yes, sir! We're on our way!" Terry answered as he and Willie ran for the parking lot.

"Do you need me to stay, sir?"

"Not if it means paying you overtime. Go home to your wife, Danko."

***MJMJMJ***

When they arrived at the accident scene, Fire and Rescue was already there as well as several police cars, ambulances and the coroner's wagon. The bus was lying on its side on one side of the intersection, the area around it surrounded by broken glass and water from where the firemen had hosed the area down to keep the spilled fuel from igniting.

"What happened?" Willie asked one of the officers already on the scene.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to a mid-sized delivery truck that was nothing more than a mass of crumpled metal. "The driver ran the light and hit the bus doing about 60. As you can see, the impact flipped the bus on its side."

"How bad is it?"

"Six dead, so far. Another 15 injured, but there are still people trapped inside the wreckage. The fire department's still pulling out bodies. Can you believe that the guy who caused all of this walked away with nothing more than bumps and bruises?"

"That figures," Willie sighed. "What was his BAC?"

"I don't know. I think they were going to take his blood at the hospital."

"I need help!" One of the rescue workers shouted as Willie and the officer looked toward him.

"You want to go?" Terry asked his partner and the other officer.

"I'll go," Willie volunteered as he jogged over toward the fireman.

Terry took flares from the trunk of the squad car and laid them out before he took his position in the middle of the road and began directing gawkers past the wreck. It amazed him how much people loved nothing more than to see dead bodies covered with yellow sheets lying by the side of the road.

***MJMJMJ***

Half an hour later, Mike walked into the apartment, frowning as he realized that Jill wasn't home. He'd stopped by the hospital, only to be told by one of her co-workers that she'd already left work and had caught the bus. The ride between the hospital and the apartment was a short one and it'd usually place Jill at home about the same time as he arrived by car. Still frowning, he went to the refrigerator and got a beer, figuring that maybe she'd stopped at the market on her way home. He guessed that he'd give her another hour before he'd go into full-blown panic mode.

***MJMJMJ***

Back at the crash site, the firefighter handed Willie some safety equipment and instructed him on how to search for survivors. "If you find dead bodies, mark them with this," he handed Willie a red marker. "We'll pull them out later. Right now we need to get to any more possible survivors."

Willie climbed a ladder and lowered himself through a broken window into the interior of the bus. The inside looked like a war zone. Broken glass, blood, and personal effects littered the inside. He went from victim to victim, checking for a pulse. He sighed as he kept marking bodies with the red marker. He walked toward the back of the bus, and picked up yet one more wrist, the wrist of a woman wearing a gold bracelet. Willie stopped as he stared in shock and horror at the bracelet. He'd seen this bracelet a couple of hundred times over the past two years. "No," he whispered as he felt her wrist, praying for a pulse. "Come on, Jill." Was it his imagination or was there a faint beat? No, he wasn't imagining it. She was definitely alive! "I've got a live one!" Willie shouted up as he heard a flurry of activity.

"Okay, hold on! We'll come down and bring a stretcher with us! Whatever you do, don't move her!" The firefighter called down.

He pulled debris off of her. She was bloody and deeply bruised, looking barely alive. Her lips and cheeks had a bluish tint to them. "Jill, can you hear me?" He called as he gently shook her. She remained ominously still and quiet, not emitting so much as a groan.

The firefighters and paramedics came down into the bus, bringing a stretcher with them. Willie helped them carefully load her onto it and carefully hoist her out of the bus. Willie climbed out of the bed last, and ran over to Terry, who was still directing traffic. "Terry, Jill was on that bus! We need to go get Mike and get him to the hospital!"

***MJMJMJ***

At the hospital, the word went out that several victims of a major traffic accident were going to be coming into the hospital. They were to be triaged in order of severity of injuries. For some of the nurses and orderlies, this was the first major catastrophe they'd ever encountered. "Keep your heads and if you're not sure about something, come and ask one of the doctors," head nurse Meggy Moran instructed them.

Albert Cummings was brought in before any of the victims arrived. He had a nasty cut over one eye that required stitches, but other than that, he was in good shape. The police officer that had brought him in instructed the nurse to take his blood and check the alcohol level. "Did he hit somebody?" She asked innocently as she drew the blood.

"Yeah, he hit a bus full of commuters coming home from work," the officer spat out bitterly. "I haven't seen anything that bad since Vietnam."

"He's the cause of the accident we were just told about?"

"Yeah, fix him up so that I can take him to jail and book him."

***MJMJMJ***

Mike had heard about the accident on the news and tried to force the pictures of doom out of his head. Jill wasn't home yet, but that didn't mean anything. 'Get a grip, Mike,' he mentally scolded himself just as the doorbell rang. He walked to the door on shaking legs and opened it to find Willie and Terry standing there, with solemn looks on their faces. His first thought was how Jill must've felt living in Alabama when she'd seen the blue condolence cars. She'd told him that her first instinct that day they'd come to their small house by mistake was to slam the door shut in their faces. That was now Mike's first instinct, too. "Mike, there's been an accident," Willie began in a shaky voice as Mike stared blankly at him.

"Is this about the accident that I just heard about on the news?"

"Yeah. Jill's on her way to Memorial right now."

"Then, why are we standing here! Let's go!" Mike grabbed his jacket and followed his friends to their patrol car.

***MJMJMJ***

At the hospital, Jackie Greenfield almost lost her composure when she saw Jill being wheeled past her on her way to a trauma room. She ran in as the team went to work. They immediately started IV's and slipped an oxygen mask over her face as they cut her clothes away from her body and slipped her into a gown. The doctor examining her quickly began barking out orders. The people in the room were almost tripping over each other as they raced to comply with his orders. "Is her family here?" He asked as he checked her pupils.

"Her husband should be here shortly," Jackie answered. "I'll go and check."

"If he's here, tell him that I'll be out to talk to him as soon as I can."

Mike was standing out in the hallway, flanked on either side by Willie and Terry. He stood up straighter when he spotted Jackie walking toward him. "Jackie, what's going on? Is Jill okay? Can I see her?"

"Mike, Dr. Vargas will be out as soon as he can to talk to you. I can't tell you anything right now. I have to get back in there." She turned and went back into the room.

"I'm going to get some coffee. Mike, do you want some?" Terry asked.

"No," Mike rubbed his hand over his face as he walked over toward the room that he'd seen Jackie enter. Standing in front of the double doors, he tried to see around all of the personnel in order to try to get a glimpse of Jill. He couldn't see anything through all of the machinery and medical personnel.

"Mike, come on. You need to let them work," Willie pulled Mike away from the doors.

"How'd this happen? The news didn't say much. They just said something about some guy running a light or something. Was he drunk?"

"Possibly. One of the cops on the scene told me that the guy walked away with nothing more than bumps and bruises."

"How many dead and injured?"

"Too many. The bus was almost full of commuters going home from work. Mike, I was the one . . . I went in to help the rescuers. I reached down to feel for a pulse and I recognized Jill's bracelet," he swallowed as he tried to erase the memory of finding his friend's wife almost lifeless on the floor of that bus.

"Did she say anything?"

"Mike, she was unconscious. I wish that I could lie and tell you that she woke up and said something witty, but she didn't."

"I wish that the doctor would come out here and tell me something," Mike ran his hands through his hair as he began pacing the hallway.

He was still standing there leaning against the wall half an hour later, wishing that he had a cigarette just to have something to do with his hands. He couldn't believe that he was actually wishing for a cigarette. The last time he'd wanted one was the night that Jill had gotten shot. He hadn't smoked since Vietnam. In Vietnam, it was something that every soldier did. If you were a non-smoker when you arrived in the LZ, within a week you were usually a smoker. After all, it wasn't like there was anything to do except kill people. "Oh, there you are," one of the nurses approached him as she held a manila envelope in her hand. "I thought that you might want Jill's things."

"Thanks," he murmured in a quiet voice as he sat down on the floor and opened the envelope, pouring out the contents in his hand. Her watch, her pinky ring that had been a gift from one of her aunts and finally, the three items of jewelry that never failed to make Mike's eyes flood with tears, which he quickly and impatiently brushed away. Looking at the gold bracelet, her engagement and wedding rings, he could remember the exact moments when he'd placed all three items on Jill.

"Has there been any word?" Terry asked as he slid down the wall beside Mike.

"No, just a lot of people running in and out with all kinds of huge machines," he sighed as he ran his fingers along the two rings and the bracelet.

"Did Willie tell you that's how he knew that it was Jill? He recognized her bracelet," Terry pointed to it.

"My brother was with me when I bought this. It was the first Christmas after I'd met Jill. I was here visiting my parents, while she stayed behind in Alabama. A bracelet was the first gift my father ever bought my mother when he knew that he wanted to marry her. I heard that story so many times growing up," he smiled as he remembered. "So, I decided that I wanted to continue that tradition. Then I got impulsive," he grinned at his friend.

"How'd you get impulsive?" Terry was intrigued. It was rare that Mike ever opened up about his early life with Jill. All he'd ever heard was how he'd met her in a bar and she'd always considered him a pest.

"After I bought the bracelet, I glanced across the display cases and saw the engagement sets. I'd only known Jill for four months, Terry, but I was so totally crazy about her. I was 30 years old and I was really in love for the first time in my life. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, so I bought her engagement ring at the same time. I don't know what I would've done if she hadn't said yes when I asked her to marry me," he remembered as his eyes once again filled with tears. "If that doctor doesn't come out soon and tell me something, I swear I'm going to go in there."

"Mike, take it easy," Terry urged him as the doors opened as if on cue and the doctor stepped out, looking around for him. "I think there's your man."

"Mr. Danko?" The doctor looked down at the floor.

"Yes," Mike picked himself up off of the floor.

"I'm Dr. Vargas. Let's go over here so that we can talk," he pointed his arm down the hall as Mike followed him to a nearby waiting area. "Have a seat." Mike stiffly sat down in an area away from listening ears and looked expectantly at the doctor. "I wish that I had good news for you, but I'm afraid that I don't. Right now, the only good news that I can give you is that Jill was lucky that she wasn't sitting on the other side of the bus. If she had been, I don't think she would've made it to the hospital."

"Tell me what's going on," Mike felt slightly sick. "For the past two hours, I've watched people parade in and out of that damned room and nobody's told me a damn thing! I want some answers."

"Jill was buried under a lot of debris," the doctor began. "She was deprived of oxygen for a time. We're not sure for how long. I've paged the on-call neurosurgeon, Dr. Conti, and he'll be down to evaluate her shortly. He can tell you more about her head injury that I can."

"Will she wake up?"

"As I just said, Dr. Conti can tell you more about that than I can. Jill has a lot of other injuries, that in and of themselves could also pose problems. She was crushed by the debris, so I'm about to take her upstairs to perform a laparotomy to check for internal bleeding," the doctor concluded as Mike just stared at him.

"Can I see her?"

"Mr. Danko, as soon as Dr. Conti finishes his evaluation, we need to get her upstairs. If you'll excuse me, I need to get back in there," the doctor stood up to leave.

***MJMJMJ***

Back in the trauma room, Dr. Richard Conti entered the room, all business as he approached the bed. "What do we have?"

"Twenty-five-year old female injured in a truck-bus collision," the nurse said as she rattled off Jill's vital signs.

"Has anybody done the coma scale?" He asked, referring to the Glasgow Coma Scale, which was used to evaluate head injuries.

"It's a six," the nurse reported.

"That's not good," he sighed as he shined a penlight into Jill's eyes. "Mrs. Danko, can you hear me? I need for you to open your eyes!" He stepped to the end of the bed and tightly squeezed the heel of her foot, watching as she drew away from the pain. He was making notations on her chart when Dr. Vargas re-entered the room. "Are you taking her up to surgery?"

"Yes, they're got an OR waiting for her. Has the scale improved?"

"No. Is her family here?"

"Her husband's right outside."

Mike was once again leaning against the wall as yet another doctor exited the room. "Mr. Danko?" The doctor looked at Mike, who nodded in response. "I'm Dr. Conti, chief of neurosurgery. Let's get out of the hallway, shall we?"

"No. Whatever you have to say, you can say it right here," Mike answered, his nerves frayed thin by the constant waiting.

"I've seen the results of your wife's—"

"Jill," Mike corrected him. "My wife's name is 'Jill.' Not 'she,' not 'your wife,' but 'Jill.'"

"Okay. I've looked at the results of Jill's CT scan and her x-rays, and I just finished examining her. Right now, Jill is in a coma. On the Glasgow Coma Scale, she ranks a six out of a possible 15. As you probably realize, that isn't good. She doesn't respond to verbal commands. At least, not from us. Sometimes people in comas respond to family members. Now, Jill's about to go upstairs to surgery, but I'd welcome you to try to get through to her if you can," the doctor ushered Mike toward the trauma room.

Mike thought that he was going to faint when he saw how badly Jill looked. She was covered in deep purple bruises. There were monitor and IV's everywhere he looked. A nurse pushed a small stool toward him, and he sat on it gratefully, no longer sure if his legs would hold him up. He picked up one of her hands, which was ice cold to his touch, much like that awful night more than a year before. He rubbed it in his in order to warm it up. "Baby, it's me. It's Mike," he said loudly over the beeping of the machines. "Baby, they need for you to open your eyes. Just for a second. You need to let them know that you're in there somewhere. I know that you are. But you have to let them know it. Come on, baby. Please," he pleaded as tears begin to fall down his face.

"Mike, we need to get her upstairs now," one of the nurses said as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Baby, I have to go. I love you and I'll see you very soon," he vowed as he stood up and kissed her on the forehead. "Dr. Conti?" He turned toward the neurosurgeon.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to perform brain surgery on her?"

"I don't know, yet," he answered honestly. "She has a brain contusion, but so far there's been no swelling. I want to treat her medically first. I'll see how she progresses from there. We need to go now."

After he left the trauma room, he walked over to Terry and Willie, who were standing by the wall drinking coffee. "Do you two need to go back and write your reports?"

"Yeah. What's going on?" Terry asked.

"They're about to take Jill upstairs to surgery to check for internal bleeding. I need to go by the apartment and pick up my car."

"That's not a problem. We'll take you," Willie offered.

"Mike, what did the doctor say? How bad is it?" Terry asked.

"It's about as bad as it can get," he answered as they left the hospital and approached the squad car. "The doctor said that she was lucky that she wasn't sitting on the other side of the bus. Otherwise, she . . . " he stopped, unable to voice his thoughts as his friends looked at each other.

Willie and Terry dropped Mike off at the apartment and then went on to the precinct. Lt. Ryker was standing at the desk in the lobby when they came in. "How's Jill? I heard that she was one of the passengers on the bus," he said as they walked up and stood at his side.

"Mike said that it's bad, but he really didn't say much more than that. When we left, they were in the process of taking her to surgery," Terry reported. "What about the driver of the truck?"

"Right now, he's in a cell at central, sleeping like a baby. The only mark on him is a gash above his eye which required eight stitches."

"What was his BAC?" Willie asked, referring to his blood alcohol content.

"Point one-four, way over the legal limit. He'll be arraigned in the morning and charged with 12 counts of first degree vehicular homicide, 18 counts of attempted vehicular homicide and driving while intoxicated. I hope the judge throws the damn book at him. Patrons at the bar that he frequents said that he'd been there all afternoon, throwing them back," Ryker said in disgust.

"Why didn't anybody stop him from getting back behind the wheel?" Terry wanted to know.

"The bartender said that he offered to call him a cab, but Cummings refused. You two finish your reports and get out of here."

"Yes, sir," they answered in unison as they walked away.

***MJMJMJ***

Back at the hospital, Mike was sitting in the surgical waiting area for word on Jill. It had been more than two hours since she'd been brought up here. In that time, he'd removed the St. Christopher from around his neck and slipped all of Jill's rings onto it. He'd slipped her bracelet into his shirt pocket. The weight of the rings weighed heavily on the chain around his neck, but he wasn't about to remove them. Right now, they were all that he had to hold onto.

An hour later, he heard the double doors to the surgical suite swing opened and Dr. Vargas stepped out. "Mr. Danko, there was some bleeding, but we were able to stop it. Right now, Jill's in recovery and she'll be there for about 45 minutes. Then we'll move her to ICU. While she's in there, you can visit her for 10 minutes every hour. There are no exceptions to that rule. You can see her once she's moved, and then I want you to go home and get some rest yourself. You're not going to do her any good if you end up here, too."

"How long will Jill be in ICU?"

"Twenty four to 72 hours. It depends on how quickly she recuperates. Then we'll know more about the rest of her injuries."

"You think that the coma is irreversible, don't you?"

"Mr. Danko, I'm not going to lie to you. A six on the GCS is catastrophic. I'm not saying that it's hopeless, but right now I'm not sure how much of the old Jill you're going to get back if she comes out of this."

"But you're not a neurologist."

"No, I'm not. Dr. Conti is an expert in this field. He's had some miraculous recoveries from brain injuries. He can tell you much more than I can."

Mike went home to an empty apartment just over an hour later. Dr. Vargas had let him see Jill briefly before booting him from the hospital. Walking into their apartment, he removed the bracelet from his pocket and the rings from around his neck and placed them in Jill's jewelry box. He then walked into the bathroom and slowly removed his clothes before climbing into the shower. It was then that all of the fear and anxiety of the past several hours came rushing to the surface. He stood under the shower and sobbed as the water washed over him. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost her.

**A/N: I'm sorry if I make Mike cry so much. There's just something about a man who cries that just gets to me. I want to thank Gina G. for explaining to me how the Glasgow Coma Scale works. It'll be explained more fully in the next chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimers: I don't own 'The Rookies' and it's highly unlikely that I ever will. So, I'll keep dreaming and writing.**

**Summary: Mike confronts the man who caused the accident. Dr. Conti explains to him just what he could be up against. The three guys take turns at Jill's bedside talking to her as they try to get a response from her. Jill comes out of the coma, but the outcome is worse than anybody could've imagined.**

Chapter 3: Waiting for Jill to Wake Up

The following morning, Mike called the precinct and learned that Albert Cummings was being arraigned at 11 o'clock that morning. He was determined to be there. Since it was such a major story, he knew that all three local news stations would be there to cover it. He then called the hospital to check on Jill's condition. The nurse on the phone reported that she was still listed in critical condition and there had been no changes during the night. He then got dressed and drove to the courthouse, where he saw the media already lined up along the courthouse steps, microphones at the ready.

There were several other cases before the Cummings' case was called. "Docket number 74-1722, the People vs. Albert Cummings! Charges are vehicular homicide, attempted vehicular homicide, and driving while intoxicated!" The bailiff announced as Cummings and his lawyer stepped up to the lectern.

"How does your client plead?"

"Not guilty," Cummings answered in a monotone.

"How are the people on bail?"

"Your honor, the defendant is charged with multiple counts on both counts one and two of the charges. The people seek remand."

"Your honor, my client is a working man, who's supporting a wife and two young children. I can assure you that he'll show up for each and every hearing involving this matter," Cummings' lawyer promised.

"Bail is set at 250,000, cash or bond! Next case!" The judge banged his gavel as Cummings and his lawyer were led to the back of the courtroom to post bail.

Mike watched as Cummings signed a number of papers, wondering just who'd put up the money for him to get out of jail. After all, that was 25,000 dollars, a lot of money by anybody's stretch of the imagination. He wondered if whoever had posted was aware of just how serious the charges were. He then followed Cummings out into the corridor where news cameras immediately moved to capture him, the reporter's microphones shoved into his face as they tried to get a sound bite for the evening news.

"Mr. Cummings, did you think that you were drunk when you got behind the wheel of your truck?"

"He knew!" Mike called out as the reporters turned toward him. "He knew, but he just didn't give a damn!"

The reporters instantly realized that Mike was probably a family member of one of the victims. "What's your name, sir?" One of the reporters asked as they all approached him.

"Michael Danko. That's D-A-N-K-O. My wife is lying in a hospital bed at Memorial Hospital in critical condition thanks to the poor judgment of Mr. Cummings. This is a picture of my wife, Jill, before you decided to act stupid," Mike shouted at Cummings as he held up a picture of Jill in front of the cameras.

"Let's go," Cummings' lawyer shoved his client toward the elevators.

"Mr. Darcy, your client had better show up at every hearing!" Mike called out after them. "Because I'm going to be there, too!"

***MJMJMJ***

When he arrived at the hospital an hour later, Dr. Conti was in the process of leaving Jill's ICU room. "Can we go somewhere and talk before you go in to see Jill?"

"I don't know if I can take any more bad news."

"Then I'll try not to give you any," he took Mike's arm and led him down the hall to the waiting area. "I understand that you had some questions for me last night."

"Yeah, I don't understand this whole coma scale thing that everybody's talking about. I'm just a dumb cop. Medical stuff has always been Jill's forte, not mine," he gave a slight smile.

"The Glasgow Coma Scale rates a patient on three criteria. Eye Opening Response, which is rated on a scale of one to four; verbal response, which is rated on a scale of one to five; and motor response, which is rated on a scale of one to six. As you might guess, one is the lowest score. Yesterday afternoon, when Jill was brought in, she was registering a one on the eye opening and verbal responses, and a four on the motor response," the doctor explained as Mike tried to absorb what he was telling him.

"Is she any better today?"

"Slightly. Her eye opening and motor responses have both gone up one point. Her verbal response has remained the same. This isn't hopeless, Mr. Danko. I've had patients improve all of the time. The brain is a curious organ. It's shown that it's able to bounce back from injuries that we doctors would think were hopeless. Her recovery is going to depend on her will and on you."

"Me?"

"Yes, on how badly you want her to recover and how hard are you willing to work to bring her out of this comatose state."

"I've never been afraid of hard work. Jill is my life. I love her and I want her to wake up. I want that more than anything."

"Dr. Vargas said that she'll probably be moved into a regular hospital room early this afternoon. I want you and anybody else that you can recruit to sit by her bedside and start stimulating her brain. I want you to talk to her, read to her, play music for her. I want you to do whatever you have to do to try to get a response out of her. I'll warn you that it's going to be exhausting. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Doctor, I flew helicopters in Vietnam. I got shot down in enemy territory and almost died. If I can do that, I think that I can do anything. I need to clear some time off with my superiors, but I'll be here," Mike vowed.

***MJMJMJ***

Ryker was in his office that afternoon when Mike knocked on his door. "Come in!" He called out as Mike walked in. "You're just the man that I wanted to see. Sit!" He pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

"I need to schedule some time off to be with Jill, sir," Mike began as Ryker shoved a sheet of paper in front of him. "What's this, sir?"

"It's already been taken care of. Capt. Whitfield called the chief, who called me, and it's been arranged. How is she?" Ryker's tone always softened when he asked about Jill. It was no secret how fond he was of her.

"She's still unconscious, but her doctor seems to think that if we sit by her beside and talk, she'll come out of it," he said as he signed the papers.

"Do you need any help?"

"I need everybody's help," Mike looked at his boss and friend. "Put the word out. I need anybody who's available."

"Danko, I saw you on the noon news," Ryker said without preamble as Mike sighed. "You need to stay away from Albert Cummings. His lawyer has already called the chief to complain that you're harassing his client."

"I wasn't harassing him—"

"Danko, stay away from him," Ryker warned. "Let the courts take care of him. Go be with your wife."

***MJMJMJ***

Mike returned to the hospital and his place at Jill's bedside. The bruises from the night before looked even worse today. She was receiving oxygen by mask and there was an IV running through her right hand, which was tied to a board to keep it straight. He stared at the different monitors which were constantly beeping. He couldn't help noticing two round white discs sticking to either side of her forehead and wondered what they were for.

He was lightly stroking her right hand when one of the nurses came in. She checked the monitors and pushed a few buttons before making notations on Jill's chart. "Jill, can you hear me? I need for you to open your eyes!" She shouted at her as she reached down and pinched her collarbone as hard as she could, as Mike winced. She then moved to the end of the bed and ran her pen along the bottom of her feet before making another note on the chart.

"Excuse me?" Mike called out as she finished her examination. "Why'd you do what you did? Why'd you pinch her and what was that thing that you were doing to her feet?"

"The pinch was to check her reaction to pain. The stimuli to her feet is to check for posturing, which is something that we don't want to see," she answered as she continued writing.

"I don't understand. What's posturing?" Mike felt as if he'd just plunged down the rabbit hole in _Alice in Wonderland_.

"It's a sign of severe brain damage. If she holds her arms and legs straight out and her head and neck arch when perform the reflex test on her feet, that's posturing. In her case, it would be a sign of bleeding on the brain," the nurse patiently explained.

"One more question and I'll let you get back to work. What're those things on her head?"

"It's measuring for brain swelling. You can hold her right hand if you want, but be careful of the IV," the nurse smiled as she started to leave the room.

"Can I put her rings back on her finger?"

"Why don't you wait a few days? That way, if she does have to have more surgery, we won't have to take her rings back off and give them back to you."

"Okay."

He gingerly picked up her fingers in his hand, being careful of the IV. He didn't know what to say, so he just sat there gently rubbing her ice cold fingers in his. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath.

He was still sitting there when Jill's friend, Jackie, walked in. "Hi, Linda said that you were here. She's breathing on her own, Mike. That's a good sign. It means that her brain stem wasn't injured."

"How long will she be on oxygen?"

"I don't know. Maybe another day or two. Is there anything else that you want to know?"

"I don't know what to say. How stupid is that? Normally, I can to talk to Jill for hours and never run out of words to say to her. Now here I am, and I can't think of a damn thing to say," he sighed as he wearily rubbed his face.

"Talk to her about silly stuff. Talk to her about stuff that only means something to the two of you. Bring a book or a newspaper or her favorite music. Believe me when I tell you that she'll hear you, Mike. You might not believe it because you can't see it, but she's in there. It's just that right now she's so far in there that she can't reach out to us," Jackie squeezed his shoulder. "I have to get back to work. Page me if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks, Jackie. Well baby, Jackie says that you're in there somewhere. I'm about to call you something that you hate just to see if I can get a rise out of you. Jilly, you need to wake up. Open up those huge brown eyes and look at me. Give me that look that's only meant for me. You know the one that I'm talking about. Wake up and remind me of what a pest I am."

In the deep recesses of her injured brain, Jill could hear a voice. But she couldn't move anything to let the owner of the voice know that she could hear it. Nothing seemed to want to work. She kept hearing people shouting at her and hurting her, but she couldn't find the voice to tell them to stop. She couldn't let them know that she just wanted to be left alone. All she felt were sharp pokes, pinches, and the never-ending cold. It was so cold that she wanted to shout at one of these people to please bring her a blanket. She didn't understand why her voice couldn't speak or why her arms and legs didn't want to move. She felt as if she was encased in cement. Finally, there was total blackness, and she didn't hear or feel anything.

Terry took over for Mike that evening so that Mike could go home and get some rest, although he knew that his good friend wouldn't sleep much. He knew that he'd probably be back up here in three or four hours, wanting to be with her.

"Well Jill, here we are," Terry said as he pulled a chair up at her bedside. "What should we talk about this evening? Oh, I've got it. We can talk about your favorite subject. Mike's so worried about you, babe," he used Mike's favorite name for her. "He wants you to wake up so badly. He wants you to start arguing with him. Or better yet, wake up and start arguing with me."

Jill had been hearing the different voices for several hours now, and they were beginning to irritate her. She just wanted all of them to shut up and let her sleep.

Terry was surprised when her hand suddenly struck out and hit the rail on the bed. He rang for a nurse and explained what had happened. "Has she done that before?"

"It's probably an involuntary muscle spasm. I'll page the doctor and see if he'll order restraints so that she doesn't hurt herself," the nurse left the room.

"Jill, I know that movement wasn't involuntary," Terry told her as soon as the nurse had left. "What're you trying to tell me? If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand."

Jill could feel someone's hand in hers and she heard the request, but she couldn't make the voice understand that she couldn't make her body do anything. She didn't know how she could make this voice understand that nothing in her body worked. She was beginning to feel as if she was trapped in a nightmare from which there was no waking up.

"Come on, Jill, squeeze my hand. Or at least press down against it. I know that you can do that much. You can do anything that you set your mind to."

Jill thought that maybe the voice was right. She couldn't make a fist to squeeze her hand, but maybe she could press down against it. She squeezed hard against the hand that was still holding hers. "That's it, Jill. That's great," he smiled as he felt a slight pressure against his hand. It had been feather light, but it was better than nothing at all. "I knew that you could come back to us."

The doctor walked in, followed by a nurse. He strapped leather restraints around both of Jill's wrists and attached them to the bed rails. He then went through all of the tests that the nurses had been doing all along. "The restraints will keep her from further injuring herself," the doctor explained as he then turned and left the room.

Jill wanted to scream for them to remove the restraints. She didn't like being restrained. She'd been in this position before, but she couldn't quite remember when. Where was her voice and why couldn't she say anything?

***MJMJMJ***

Willie had the late night shift; arriving at the hospital shortly after eight that evening. "Why is she restrained?" He asked Terry when he came into the room.

"She was banging her hand on the rail. The doctor was worried that she'd hurt herself or knock out her IV. Just talk to her about anything. Mike will be here in the morning," Terry said as Willie sat down in his vacated chair.

"Hi, Jill. It's me," he began, unsure of what he was supposed to say. "It looks like I get the night shift. Maybe we could watch some Carson later. I'm sorry that they have you tied to the bed like this."

She heard yet a third strange voice and wondered what was going on. A third voice that was going to sit there and talk gibberish when all she wanted to do was sleep. All of these voices and these people poking and pinching her were interrupting her sleep. At least someone had at last had the courtesy to put an extra blanket on her.

***MJMJMJ***

At the apartment, Mike was watching TV when the doorbell rang. He walked over and looked through the peephole before opening the door and letting Terry in. "Come on in. Do you want a beer?" Mike offered as he walked back toward the living room.

"No, thanks. I just wanted to let you know before you go back to the hospital in the morning that they restrained Jill's wrists this afternoon. She was hitting her hand against the bed rail," Terry explained as Mike made a face. "What's wrong?"

"She doesn't like being restrained. I can't even pin her down in fun. I made the mistake of doing it once and I never did it again."

"But, I do have good news. She responded to a command. I asked her to press my hand. I barely felt it, but she responded," Terry smiled as Mike smiled broadly back.

"Jackie's right. She is in there somewhere."

***MJMJMJ***

The next morning, Mike took his place at Jill's bedside. "Hey, I heard that you pressed Terry's hand yesterday. Do you think that you can repeat that performance?"

Jill was so tired of these voices. She'd do anything they asked if they'd just leave her alone and go away. It was hard to move her hand, especially with the added restraints, but she somehow managed to make her index finger work as she pushed it into the palm of the disembodied voice.

"That's beautiful, babe," he smiled. "I love you so much." Just then, she moaned and moved her head toward the sound of his voice. "Jill, can you hear me? Come on, baby, open your eyes."

Just then, Dr. Conti walked in. "How's our patient doing this morning?"

"She just made a noise and she moved her head toward my voice. She also touched my hand when I asked her to. That's good, isn't it?"

"It could be very good, but it also might not mean anything," the doctor answered mysteriously as he checked the monitors. "I'm going to cut her oxygen and try to get her off of the mask. She seems to be breathing better than she was yesterday."

"Is there anything more that you can tell me?"

"Mr. Danko, I'm not going to know how much brain damage there is until Jill regains consciousness and I'm able to run tests. And if the signs that you're telling me are true, that could be today or it might be a week from today. Just keep doing what you and your friends are doing and I'll take care of the rest."

"Wow, that didn't sound very encouraging, did it?" He asked out loud after the doctor stepped out. "But I know you better than he does. I know that you have the soul of a warrior and you're going to come out of this and tell all of those doctors a thing or two, aren't you, baby?"

Several days passed without any significant change in Jill's condition. Except for the fact that she was now breathing room air, there was no other change in her condition. She remained unconscious and there was still no response to commands.

One afternoon, several days later, Terry was taking his shift at Jill's bedside. He was reading to her from the _Los Angeles Times_, commenting on different articles, when he had the feeling that he was being watched. He lowered the newspaper to find Jill's dark brown eyes burning into his. But there was something different. It was as if there was no recognition in them. "Jill? Let me go get the doctor. I'll be right back."

Dr. Conti came running into the room a few minutes later. "Well, welcome back, young lady," he smiled as he took out a penlight and shined it into her eyes. "Follow the light with your eyes and not your head. Do you understand me? Just your eyes. Perfect."

She didn't know who all of these people were or why they were looking at her as if she was a circus freak. She yanked furiously at the leather restraints on her wrists. She tried to tell them to take them off, but no sound would come out of her mouth.

"Jill, calm down," the doctor urged as he put his hands on her wrists, which were tugging at the bed rails with a vengeance. "Nurse, give me point five milligrams of Valium."

"I'm going to go call her husband," Terry said as the doctor nodded.

Mike was watching TV when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Mike, it's me," Terry's voice came over the line. "Jill just regained consciousness."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," Mike slammed down the phone before Terry could say anything further.

When he arrived at the hospital, Terry was standing outside of Jill's room. "The doctor had to sedate her," Terry told him. "She became very upset about the restraints. He said that he'll be out to talk to you in a few minutes."

"Has she said anything?"

"No. Mike, something's wrong," Terry looked shaken as Mike stared at him. "Her eyes. It was as if she was staring right through me. I don't think she knew who I was."

"Mr. Danko," Dr. Conti stepped out of her room. "Let's go over here and talk."

"What's going on? Terry said that Jill's awake and now you've sedated her."

"I had to. She became extremely agitated and I was afraid that she'd hurt herself. She'll be awake shortly. She was unable to speak, Mr. Danko."

"Is this permanent?"

"I don't know. Now that she's regained consciousness, I'll get her started in therapy to regain whatever it is that she's lost. She was trying to talk, but the words just wouldn't come out. I think that sounds might come in the days ahead, but I can't make any promises. She did seem to understand what I was saying to her, which is a very encouraging sign."

"Can I go and sit with her?"

"Of course."

Mike could see the physical change in her appearance the minute that he walked into the room. She seemed much more relaxed, much more at peace. He sat down and touched her hand, which was still restrained to the bed. "I hear that you woke up for Terry. Was he making one of his famous speeches? I need for you to wake up for me, baby."

She slowly blinked her eyes opened and turned them in the direction of the voice. She tried to focus on the man who was sitting beside her bed. A million questions started going through her head as she stared at him. Who was this stranger? Where was Cleve? And what had she done to end up in this hell?

**A/N: I realized as I was writing this that part of it are similar to 'The Hero Always Comes in Riding a White Horse.' I promise that the similarities end with the next chapter,**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimers: I don't own 'The Rookies' and I never will.**

**Summary: Mike begins the arduous task of helping Jill recover five lost years of her life as she in turn struggles to remember a life that is completely alien to her.**

Chapter 4: The Struggle Begins

Jill continued to stare at Mike and the doctor, who'd entered the room behind him, her brown eyes clouded with confusion and fear. She tried to speak, to form the word 'Who?' but no sounds would come out of her throat. Her frustration started to build once again as she began yanking at her restraints, shaking the entire bed in the process. She was clearly enraged and badly frightened.

"Jill, you need to relax. If I remove your restraints, will you calm down?" The doctor slowly asked as she stared at him and nodded. "I need to perform a couple of tests, anyway, so I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room, Mr. Danko."

"I want to stay," Mike announced stubbornly.

"I know that you do, but this will only take a couple of minutes and then you can come back in," the doctor waited until Mike left the room. He then noticed that his patient visibly relaxed as soon as he stepped out. "Do you understand everything that I'm saying to you?"

Jill felt like telling the doctor that she was mute, not stupid. But again, no sounds would come out, so she simply nodded. This seemed to please the doctor because he smiled broadly, showing coffee stained teeth.

"That's very good. Now I need for you to take your right hand and push my hand down to the bed," he said after he removed the restraints.

She couldn't even lift her right hand, much less do what he expected her to do. When he repeated the request and asked her to use her left hand, she was able to push his hand down easily. He then moved to the end of the bed and asked her to push against his hand using both feet. Again her right foot was almost useless, while her left worked normally. She watched as he made notes on a chart. She wanted to ask him what was going on. She didn't know what she was doing here, but she wondered if Cleve had something to do with it. Maybe he'd finally hit her too hard.

"I'll be back in just a minute," he suddenly announced as he left the room. He found Mike standing against the wall with Terry. "Things are bad, but they're not hopeless."

"How bad?" Mike asked.

"Right now her ability to speak is compromised. However, she is trying to get the words out, which is a good sign. With therapy, hopefully we can have her forming simple sentences fairly soon. However her entire right side is almost non-functioning."

"Doctor, she pressed into both mine and Terry's hands with her right hand," Mike pointed out.

"Yes, but you also both said that it was a very light touch. I'll arrange to get her into physical therapy immediately, but as soon as she recovers sufficiently, I'd like to have her moved out to Rancho Mirage Rehabilitation Hospital. They're experts in their field. Their best therapist works here part-time and I'm going to assign him to Jill. His name is Paul Clay. He's tough, but he'll get her back on her feet."

"Can I go back in?"

"That's the other thing that I want to talk to you about. There's a possibility of memory loss. I noticed when you left her room, her whole body relaxed. I'm not sure that she remembers you, Mr. Danko. But until she can tell us, we're not going to know for sure. Right now, I'm going to go to the therapy unit and see if I can find a word board. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"A word board?" Terry looked at Mike.

"I think it's one of those boards that people with severe cerebral palsy use to communicate. It has commonly used words and phrases on it. The person just points to what they want to say."

Jill was lying in bed trying to sort out what was going on when the doctor re-entered the room carrying a large object. She stiffened up when she saw that the doctor had been followed by the same strange man who'd been in her room earlier. "Jill, can you read the words on the board?" The doctor asked as he placed the large board across her lap.

She looked at the words on the board. There were hundreds of commonly used words and phrases as well as the alphabet. Again she wondered if the doctor thought that she was a moron. Sure, she'd left school when she was 14, but she'd learned to read and write long before she did. Not everybody who lived in the South was a hick. She looked at him and nodded before pointing at Mike with her left hand and hitting the word 'Who?' repeatedly.

Mike's heart sank as he realized what she was asking him. Terry and the doctor were right. Her eyes looked right through him, as if he were a stranger. Her eyes had always lit up when she'd seen him. Jill's eyes were staring through him with a mixture of fury and confusion. "Who am I?" He asked as she nodded and tapped the board again. "I'm Mike, baby," he whispered as she continued staring at him with burning eyes.

"Mr. Danko, take it easy. If you get upset, you're just going to upset her. Don't make her think that she's done something bad," the doctor warned in a low voice as he watched Jill studying the board.

She tapped the board to get Mike's attention. When he looked at her, he watched as her fingers moved down to the alphabet and spelled out the five letters that he'd been dreading. "Cleve?"

"What's she asking about?" The doctor asked.

"Can I talk to you outside for a minute?" Mike asked. "We'll be right back." He led the doctor outside and closed Jill's door. "The guy that she's asking about is a former boyfriend. He was killed a couple of months ago. What should I tell her?"

"For right now, the best plan might just be to stall her. When she's stronger, and can handle it better, that's what you can tell her the truth," the doctor advised him.

Jill knew that something was wrong gauging by that Mike guy's reaction when she'd asked about Cleve. Maybe he was in jail. Maybe that had something to do with why she was here. She looked at her arms and could see bruises that were still deep shades of black, blue, and purple. Maybe Trap had finally grown some balls and called the cops on him.

She looked up at Mike. Once again she pointed at Mike and then at the word 'Who?'

"Mike, remember?" He asked as she shook her head furiously. "Take your time. What is it that you want to ask me?"

She just kept tapping the word 'who' over and over as he looked confused. She felt like screaming at him 'Who's being the moron now?' She finally tapped her finger to her chest before pointing at Mike again and then the word 'who?' once again. "You want to know how we know each other?" He asked as she nodded, seemingly relieved that she'd finally gotten through to him. "We're married. We've been married for four years now."

This news sent Jill into a tailspin. If she was married to Mike, then where was Cleve? She pointed at Mike and then at the word 'year.'

"It's 1974," he answered as she swept the board off of her lap in a fury. "Jill, you need to calm down."

In her head, she was screaming. But the only sounds coming out were guttural noises. A nurse came into the room with a needle. As soon as the needle entered her arm, the room instantly went black.

The doctor was standing by the wall talking to Terry when Mike walked out. "It's a little too much for her to process," the doctor sympathized. "Give it some time. Everything will come back to her. The important thing is not to force news on her that she isn't ready for."

"She was fine until I told her what year it was. That was when she lost it."

"In her mind, she's lost . . . I don't know how many years of her life. When was she last with this Cleve person?"

"Nineteen sixty-nine."

"She thinks that five years of her life have just disappeared and she doesn't understand where the time has gone. You have to understand that as frustrating as this is for you, it's probably ten times worse for her. At least you have a voice and can verbalize what you're thinking. Right now she can't. Since she's now awake, I'll have to curb your visitation schedule. She'll be in therapy a large part of her day, so I'll have to ask you to visit her in the afternoon after three."

***MJMJMJ***

Early the next morning, an orderly came into Jill's room and put her in a wheelchair before taking her to the elevator. They went upstairs to a room that was filled with exercise equipment. There were parallel bars, weights, stretchers, large balls, and mats covering the floor. Her eyes widened in horror when a huge man approached them. He was at least six foot four, and weighed about 250 pounds. His shirt stretched tightly over his huge biceps. "You must be Jill. I'm Paul," he introduced himself as he lifted her out of the wheelchair as easily as if she was a rag doll. "Thanks, Tony," he thanked the orderly. "I think I've got it from here."

"Okay, Paul," the orderly said as he walked away.

"Now right now you might be thinking that I'm your new best friend. But I can guarantee that your opinion of me is going to change quickly. I'm tough and I'm mean. In a few weeks, I intend to have you on your feet and walking between those bars over there," he pointed as he laid Jill on a rubber mat and sat down at the end of it.

Without her board, Jill felt helpless. She didn't know how she could make this big man understand that she couldn't walk. Her right arm and leg felt as if they were made of rubber. She'd tried forcing them to work the night before, but nothing happened. She winced as Paul took her left leg and began painfully pressing it against his shoulder.

"I can't do all of the work, Jill. I need for you to push back," he said as she shook her head. "Don't start giving me attitude! You've only been here for five minutes! Anyway, save the attitude for when you can really tell me to kiss off. I don't understand gestures! Now push back against me!"

She still didn't feel as if she was doing anything, but Paul seemed pleased so she must've been doing something right.

After working on her left side for 15 minutes, he switched to her right arm and leg. Her right hand was clenched into a tight fist, which he worked on straightening out. She groaned in pain as he uncurled her fingers. "I'm disappointed in your doctor and nurses, Jill. They should've been doing this while you were in a coma. I'll order a brace for this hand before you leave today so that you won't be able to curl your hand back up. Push on my hand," he instructed as he watched her hand involuntarily curling back up. "No! concentrate on keeping your fingers straight! Keep your hand opened! Listen to me! This is the hand that you write with! How can your occupational therapist put a pen in your hand if it's permanently closed?"

She felt like telling this Neanderthal that she wasn't closing her hand on purpose. It was as if it had a will of its own. She decided to just grit her teeth and show him that she could push his stupid hand away.

Once again, Paul pressed her hand against his, forcing her fingers to stay opened this time. "Push on my hand," he said as he felt a slight pressure against his hand. "That's not bad, but I know that you can do so much better. Should I piss you off? My patients seem to do much better when I make them angry."

'I wonder why' she would've said if her voice would work. But, of course, her mouth was useless. She couldn't understand how she knew what she wanted to say, but couldn't get the signal from her brain to her mouth.

She remained with Paul all morning as he continued to torture her with his stupid exercises. By the time she was returned to her room for lunch, she was sore and out of sorts. She'd just been placed in her bed when the nurse walked in with her lunch tray. "Are we ready for lunch?" The nurse asked cheerfully as she placed the tray on the table and rolled it in front of Jill.

'I don't know. Are we?' She felt like asking as she stared down at what was supposed to be passing for lunch. How'd they expect her to eat if she couldn't use both hands? Shouldn't somebody be in here helping her? Already angry by the grueling therapy session, she picked up the tray in her left hand and heaved it toward the door.

"Whoa! Nice aim! What's going on?" Mike entered the room, narrowly missing the flying tray. He walked up to the bed and handed her the word board from off of the floor. He could see tears of anger building in her eyes, but he was afraid to comfort her. He was afraid of being rejected by her.

"Nobody helped me eat," her fingers flew over the board as Mike watched.

"I see. Well, if you'd waited five more minutes, I would've been here and I would've helped you."

They both looked toward the door as the nurse re-entered the room, having heard the crash from the tray hitting the door frame. "I see that we've made a mess."

Jill simply glared at the nurse and gave her the finger. Mike put his hand over his face to keep from laughing, even though deep inside his heart was breaking at the condition that his wife was now in. "Just clean it up and leave us, please," he told her.

"I thought that you weren't supposed to be here until after three, Mr. Danko. Doctor's orders," the nurse reminded him haughtily as she left the room to summon an orderly.

"Why after three?" She hit the words on her board as she looked at him.

"You're supposed to be in therapy all day," he explained as she hit more words. He looked at her after he read what she was saying. "What do you mean 'no more?' Jill, you have to go to therapy. You're not going to get better if you don't."

"Hurts. Paul's mean," she answered as she looked at him.

"I think it's supposed to hurt," he tried to explain as he watched her left hand. "Baby, I'll tell you why he isn't here in a few days. I brought something to show you."

He removed some pictures from his jacket and held them out to her. She slowly accepted them in her left hand and laid them on top of the board. They were pictures of someone who looked a lot like her and Mike. He was wearing a green uniform while she was wearing a long white dress with a red and blue embroidered bodice with her long hair swept up on top of her head and tied with a white ribbon. "When?" She tapped the word on the board.

"These were taken on our wedding day," he started to explain as he saw her face darken. "I know that you don't remember." He watched as she held up her left hand. "You want to know where your rings are?" She nodded. "They're at home. Do you want me to bring them to you?"

She shook her head and began tapping away on the board. Her fingers were flying so fast that he had trouble following her. 'How can I be married to you if I live with somebody else? I don't even remember you!'

"You know what? We'll talk about all of that later. I know that you have speech therapy in about 20 minutes," he glanced at his watch as he got up to leave. "I'll come back later."

He turned from the door when he heard her frantically banging on the board to get his attention. He walked back over to her bed to see what she was trying to ask him. 'I'll talk today?' She looked up at him expectantly.

"No, probably not today," he said as her face fell. "I don't know when you'll talk again, but hopefully it'll be soon. I'll see you again in a few hours."

After he left, she continued staring at the pictures that he'd left her on the board. It was definitely her and it was definitely him, but she didn't know him from the Man in the Moon. It was dangerous for this strange man to visit. What if Cleve came by and caught him? That strange man had to be lying. How could they be married when she didn't even remember him?

She held out her left hand and examined her third finger. She could see a tan line from where she'd obviously been wearing a ring. She reached over for her call button and rang it. The nurse who'd been in her room earlier came in, followed by an orderly, who began cleaning up the mess from her ruined lunch. "What do you need, Jill?" The nurse asked in a brusque tone.

'That man who was just in here," she tapped out on the board. 'What's his last name?'

"Danko," the nurse answered. "Mike Danko. He's a huge favorite around here. Him and his friends. It's mainly because of you."

'How because of me?'

"You're a nurse here, Jill.'

A nurse? Now she was really confused. How could she be a nurse when she hadn't even finished high school? All of this information was too confusing to process.

***MJMJMJ***

Jill found that she liked her speech therapist very much. Her name was Lydia Green, and she wasn't mean like Paul. They sat across from each other at a small table while Lydia held up different objects and encouraged Jill to makes noises to make the objects move. "The words are there, Jill. You can hear them in your head, can't you?" She asked as Jill eagerly nodded her head. "That's wonderful! The trick is getting them to go from your head and out of your mouth."

The 'wh' sound was the sound that Lydia worked on the hardest since Jill seemed to want to know everything. She knew that if Jill could get those question words out of her mouth, the rest would quickly follow.

"Reporters call the question words the 5 W's. Who, what, where, when, and why. In your brain, these words are like the keys to the kingdom. If you can get them out, I think it'll unlock the rest of the words in your brain."

For days, Jill would sit on her bed following her therapy sessions with Lydia. With a mirror propped up on her tray table, she'd make the 'wh' sounds with her mouth. The first word she finally managed to get out of her mouth was 'where.' The sound of her voice scared her so badly that she almost knocked the mirror onto the floor. She'd almost forgotten what she sounded like. Now maybe she could talk to Mike without that stupid, annoying board that took up so much room. She had no way of knowing that talking with the board would be a picnic compared to what was going to come when she actually tried to speak.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimers: I don't own 'The Rookies' and I never will.**

**Summary: Jill begins speaking, but the answers to her questions leave her more confused and angry than ever. Convinced that Cleve will come looking for her, she has no trust of Mike, who continues trying to work his way back into her heart.**

**The doctors begin making plans for her continued recovery after the hospital.**

Chapter 5: Trying to Win Back Jill's Heart

Dr. Conti was sitting at a staff meeting with both of Jill's therapists. The topic of the meeting was measuring Jill's progress. "Is she ready to be moved to Rancho Mirage?" He asked.

"No," Paul answered. "Her right side is still extremely weak. I'm also concerned about her right hand. She's been wearing a brace to keep her fingers from atrophying, but the brace isn't working. She might need surgery."

"How's her speech coming along, Lydia?"

"Fairly well, actually. She's at the point where she's making the sounds, so actual words shouldn't be far behind."

"Okay. What point is Jill in regarding her physical therapy? Paul, have you gotten her on her feet?"

"Yes, but only for about a minute at a time. But, that's up from about 20 seconds a week ago, so she's making progress, just not as much as I'd like to see."

"I guess we'll meet again at this time next week and see how things have progressed," Dr. Conti said as he got to his feet, indicating that the meeting was over.

***MJMJMJ***

In her room, Jill had been sitting apprehensively since leaving her afternoon speech therapy session. She kept wondering where Cleve was. It wasn't like him to let her out of his sight. Where he was at was what she always wondered about these days. She knew that sooner or later he was going to show up and drag her back to that house. She didn't want to go back, but she had to ask herself if staying with Cleve was worse than being back on the farm in Alabama with her grandfather.

She had a ton of questions for Mike when he came to visit that afternoon. She'd stared at the pictures he'd brought her for hours every day. She didn't understand how she could be married to him when she felt no connection. She belonged with Cleve and she knew that he was going to come back. And when he did, he'd mop up the floor with Mike. The very thought terrified her.

She was practicing her sounds when Mike arrived shortly after five o'clock. She figured that he always stopped by to visit her on his way home from work, but she had no idea what that work was, exactly. He'd never said. He always acted so happy to spend a few hours by her side. On the other hand, she felt absolutely nothing for him. Sure, he was a nice enough guy, but he didn't make her heart skip beats. Nobody did that for her.

She looked toward the door as he walked in, this time with a large book under his arm. He approached her bed as she stopped her, her hand held out like a traffic cop. She scrunched her face up in concentration as he watched her expectantly. "What . . . what . . . " she began pounding her fists on the bed in frustration.

"Take your time," he encouraged her as he pulled up a chair. "You can do this. Just take your time."

"What . . . what . . . did . . . I . . . do?"

"What do you mean? You didn't do anything," he answered her. "When did you start talking?"

"Prac . . . practicing," she answered proudly as Mike smiled. "Where's . . . Cleve? You . . . sh . . . shouldn't . . . if . . . he . . . finds . . . you . . . he . . . will . . . hurt . . . me! He . . . will . . . hurt . . . you!"

He closed his eyes as he understood what she was trying to warn him about. She was trying to tell him that if Cleve found him in her room, he'd take his rage out on her. He didn't know how to convince her that she didn't have to worry about Cleve, anymore. He'd been dead for three months now. "Let me worry about Cleve, okay?" He finally answered. "It's great to hear your voice again."

"I . . . didn't . . . do . . . anything?"

"Jill, I don't understand what you mean. Do you think that you did something to end up in here?" He asked as she nodded, glad that he understood her. It was exhausting to talk. "You didn't do anything. There was a bus accident. That's how you got hurt."

"Truth?"

"That's the truth. You didn't do anything to yourself. You got hurt in an accident."

"Okay. Book?" She pointed to the book he had under his arm.

"I brought this from home. I thought that you might like to see pictures of us with our friends."

"No," she shook her head as he stared at her.

"You don't want to look at the album?"

"You . . . need . . . to . . . go! Cleve . . . won't . . . like . . . it!" She hit the bed for emphasis as he got up.

"You're sure that you want me to leave?" She emphatically nodded. "Okay. I don't want to upset you anymore than you already are."

***MJMJMJ***

Terry and Willie were watching TV when they heard Mike's door slam. Terry glanced at his roommate before getting up and leaving the apartment. Willie followed him as he walked next door and rang Mike's doorbell. "Hey, open up! It's the police!" Terry called out.

"It's opened! Come on in!" Mike's muffled voice called out as the two men entered the apartment.

"You're home early," Terry stated the obvious as he took two beers from the refrigerator and handed one to Willie.

"Jill kicked me out of her room. She keeps insisting that Cleve's going to catch her there and take it out on both of us," Mike explained as he drained his beer can.

"Has her doctor said when you can tell her that Cleve's dead?" Willie asked as he sat down.

"He doesn't want me to tell her yet. He's afraid that it'll 'impede' her recovery. At least she's talking now," he added as the guys looked at him.

"She's talking?" Terry asked as the two men both smiled.

"Yeah, but it takes her forever to string a simple sentence together. It was so frustrating that I wanted to just finish her sentences for her!" He put his beer can on the table and put his head in his hands.

"Hey Mike? When can we go and visit her?" Willie asked hopefully.

"Give it time, William. Right now, she barely tolerates my presence."

"I take it that you still haven't been able to make her believe that you're married," Terry guessed as Mike nodded.

"I even took her a couple of pictures that were taken right after the ceremony. I don't know. Maybe she thinks she's been sucked into some kind of alternate universe or something. Her doctor wants to talk to me tomorrow. I don't know what that's all about."

***MJMJMJ***

Dr. Conti was in his office the next morning when Mike arrived. "Come on in, Mike. Have a seat. Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"I understand that Jill has started speaking."

"Yeah, but I don't know," he sighed. "The word board made things a lot easier." He immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry. That was an awful thing to say."

"Mike, it's okay to feel angry and frustrated," the doctor consoled him.

"I just want her to remember me! Instead, she keeps insisting that Cleve is going to show up and get angry at her when he finds her talking to me."

"Was this Cleve person abusive to her?"

"He was extremely abusive to her. I know that you're worried that by telling her about Cleve that it'll slow down her recovery, but don't you think that she has a right to know? Just so she can get this delusion out of her head that he's going to come and kill me?"

"Right now I need to know how far back this memory loss goes. We know that she has no memory of you, so that tells us that it goes back at least five years. How long was she with him?"

"Five years, but she knew him for years before that. I know they first met when she was a kid."

"I don't think that the memory loss extends much beyond the five-year mark. She's not acting like a child, except for throwing things at her therapist," the doctor sighed as Mike bit back a grin.

"She did flip off a nurse a few days ago," he remembered.

"Let me ask you something. Were these two incidents indicative of behavior that she's displayed since your marriage?"

"No, but I do think that flipping off someone would be very much in keeping with the old Jill."

"She was feisty?"

"Well, she still is," Mike smiled. "But it's a little more refined now that she's a nurse and respectably married."

"I'll have a chat with her later. The other thing that I wanted to talk to you about has to do with her right hand. We've kept it braced, but Paul was telling me in our meeting yesterday that when he removes the brace for her therapy sessions, her hand still automatically curls tightly into a fist."

"Won't it get better as her right side gets stronger?"

"Mike, her right side _is _getting stronger, but there's been little improvement in that hand. This is something that might be corrected surgically. The thing that we're worried about right now is those muscles atrophying. If that happens, she'll lose the use of that hand."

"When would you want to operate?"

"As soon as possible. It's not major surgery, but Jill will be under anesthesia which always carries a risk. I'll have the papers drawn up for you to sign this afternoon when you come to visit her."

"While I'm here, I'd like to meet this therapist that I've ever so much about. That is, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. Follow me," the doctor stood up as both men left the room.

Paul was working with another patient when Mike and Dr. Conti walked into the therapy unit. He gave a few instructions before walking over to the two men. "You must be Mike. I'm Paul Clay," Paul introduced himself as the two men shook hands. "Did Dr. Conti talk to you about Jill's hand?"

"Yes, he did. I understand that she throws things at you."

"All of the time," Paul smiled. "It's okay. I'm used to it and besides, she needs the exercise."

"I wanted to ask you if it would be all right if I came and observed her therapy session?"

"I really don't like family members sitting in. It disrupts my work."

"I'm trying to get through to her and I thought by encouraging, it might help."

"Let me talk to her first. Let me see what she tells me about you. What she can tell me about you will tell me a lot."

"Fair enough," Mike agreed. "It was nice meeting you."

"You, too." Later that morning, Jill was lying on the exercise mat as Paul had her leg up on his shoulder, pushing against her. "You know, it'd really help if you pushed back. You're supposed to be the one doing the work, not me."

"Tired," she complained.

"I don't want to hear about how tired you are. We haven't even gotten to the bars yet, so don't lie there and talk to me about how tired you are. I met your husband this morning," he suddenly announced as Jill glared down the mat at him.

"No."

"No, I didn't meet him? Or, no he's not your husband?"

"Not," she shook her head.

"Well, if he isn't your husband, then who is he? He's been here every day worrying about you, waiting for you to get better. Do you like him?" He asked as he continued working on her leg.

Did she like him? That was an interesting question. He seemed nice enough. Even though he claimed that they were married, he hadn't made any attempts to kiss her or touch her. She was glad because sex was awful. It had been bad enough having to put up with the things that Cleve had done to her every night. The thought of doing those same things with another person was something that she didn't even want to think about.

"He's . . . okay," she finally grudgingly admitted.

"Just 'okay?' You mean to lay there and tell me that he doesn't make your heart beat faster every time he walks into the room?"

Something that he'd just said made a brief flash of memory go through her head. But she didn't understand the flash and it was just as quickly gone. "No . . . I . . . can't . . . like . . . him."

"Why can't you like him?"

"I'll . . . get . . . hurt. Cleve . . . will . . . hurt . . . M . . . him!"

"You're worried that this other guy Cleve will hurt you and Mike?"

"Not . . . not . . . safe . . . for . . . M . . . Mike . . . to . . . see . . . me."

"Well, judging by the look of him, I think that Mike can take care of himself against the likes of your friend Cleve. He'd probably even defend you. Come on, let's get up and move over to the bars."

"No! Paul . . . not . . . today!"

"You don't get a break until you've earned one and so far, you haven't earned one. You know that we have to work on the bars. We have this argument every single day and you lose every single day."

"And . . . every . . . day . . . I . . . fall . . . on . . . my . . . face!"

"Let me ask you something. How badly do you want to get out of here?" He asked as he knelt down beside her and looked her in the eyes.

"I . . . don't . . . like . . . it . . . here."

"Exactly. But until I can get you on your feet, you're going to be staying right here. Look around you, Jill. Do you see any happy people here? No," he answered his own question. "That's because all of the happy people are at Rancho Mirage with Mario, who the ladies all think looks like that curly-haired guy from 'The Mod Squad.' Meanwhile, the unhappy people are stuck here with me and Curtis," he nodded toward his assistant.

With the help of Curtis, he removed the rigid metal brace from her right hand and centered her between the two wooden bars. "I . . . can't!" She cried out in terror as her right hand began to buckle from the bar.

"You can do this!" He shouted encouragement to her from the far end. "Your brain is trying to trick your body into thinking that it can't, but you and I both know better. Make that hand hold on! Keep telling yourself that you can do this!"

She looked toward the end of the bars where Paul was waiting, and glanced down at her hands on either side of the bar. He was wrong. She barely feel his right hand most of the time. Her legs weren't much better. The right one felt like jell-o right now. "Paul . . . "

"Jill, I'm tired of hearing excuses! I need to see results! Two steps! You can do this! You did one step the day before yesterday. Two is one more than one. Concentrate and make your body obey your brain!"

"When . . . can . . . I . . . stay . . . out . . . of . . . my . . . bed?"

"I'll graduate you to a wheelchair when you reach me at the end of these bars. That's 10 steps. You're still a long way from that. Let's work on one thing at a time. Let me see two steps and we'll be done for the day. You can go back to your room and have lunch."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Two steps and we're done."

She bit down hard on her bottom lip and tried to get the impulses down to her leg. Her legs were shaking so badly as she moved first her left leg and then her right as Paul beamed like a proud father watching his baby take her first steps. This was the moment he always strived toward. "It . . . hurts!" She cried as tears rolled down her face.

"I know that it hurts, Jill. You can do this. One more and that's it," he promised as he watched her carefully. Curtis was standing alongside the bars in case she took a spill, which was usually what happened.

She gritted her teeth in concentration as she again moved her left leg. The left leg wasn't a problem. It moved normally. Her right leg, on the other hand, didn't want to do anything. Sweat poured down her forehead as she finally managed to get her right leg to move. Curtis caught her as her knees buckled.

"Very good," Paul praised her as he wheeled her chair over and Curtis placed her in it. "Go have lunch and I'll see you this afternoon."

"Wait! You . . . said . . . I . . . was . . . done . . . for . . . the . . . day," she stammered as Paul smiled wickedly.

"As great as two steps were, don't you think that four steps would be just a little bit better?"

Jill was furious. He'd lied to her! Just like Cleve was always lying to her! Just like Mike was probably lying to her! All men were the fucking same! A bunch of damn liars!

***MJMJMJ***

Mike walked into Jill's room at lunchtime, shocked to find her in tears. "What's wrong?" He walked over to her bed.

"Paul . . . Paul . . . " she sobbed as she fought to get the words out.

"What about Paul? Slow down and tell me," he smiled at her.

"He's . . . mean."

"I don't think he's mean on purpose. Why don't you tell me what he did that was so mean and I'll see if I agree with you?"

"He . . . said . . . two . . . steps . . . this . . . morning," she held up two fingers as he nodded. "Two . . . and . . . that's . . . all . . . for . . . today. I . . . did . . . two . . . steps."

"That's great!" He smiled.

"Wait! He . . . says . . . go . . . have . . . lunch . . . and . . . I'll . . . see . . . you . . . this . . . after . . . noon. Liar!" She shouted in rage.

"He just wants you to get better. That's all any of us want."

"Hurts! All . . . of . . . the . . . time! I . . . can't."

"Babe, I know that it hurts and I know that you want to stop. But you're not going to get better if you don't work hard at it."

"Don't . . . call . . . me . . . that."

"What? Babe?" He asked as she nodded. "Okay, I won't call you that if you don't want me to."

"I . . . think . . . they . . . won't . . . let . . . Cleve . . . see . . . me. They . . . like . . . you . . . better. I . . . can't . . . go . . . away . . . with . . . you."

"Why do you think that they're not letting Cleve see you?"

"A . . . nurse . . . told . . . me . . . that . . . they . . . all . . . like . . . you."

"If he were to visit you, would you leave with him?"

"I . . . no . . . choice. If . . . I . . . try . . . to . . . ever . . . leave . . . he'll . . . kill . . . me."

"He told you that?"

"Yes."

He now better understood Cleve's motivation for his return a few months ago. Clearly delusional and thinking that he was still with Jill, he'd come back to fulfill a promise that he'd made to her. The promise to kill her if she ever left him. Everything made perfect sense now. "I love you," he suddenly announced as her eyes widened.

"No."

"Yes I do. And believe it or not, you love me, too. You just don't remember right now. I want you to listen to me, Jill. I have something that I need to tell you and I don't know how you're going to take it. Cleve's dead, Jill. He's been dead for three months."

"No," she shook her head. "You're . . . lying. You're . . . just . . . saying . . . that. He'll . . . be . . . here."

"Jill, I've never lied to you. He's dead."

She didn't want to believe what he was telling her. He claimed that he'd never lied to her. That was bullshit. She's learned that all men were liars. They'd tell you what you wanted to hear. She was sure that Mike was no different from Cleve or her grandfather or any other man she'd ever been around. She knew that Mike was lying to her just to shut her up. "You . . . say . . . that . . . we're . . . married?" She looked at him as he nodded. "Do . . . we ? You . . . know?"

"Do we have sex?" He asked as she blushed. "Yes, all of the time."

"No," she stared at him. "I . . . don't . . . like . . . doing . . . that." Her voice broke as she once again blushed.

"Believe it or not, you do enjoy it with me. You have scars, Jill. Right here," he pointed to areas on her upper and lower back. "And on the backs of both of your legs. I don't know how you got all of them, but I do know that they're there."

"How?"

"The only way that I could know. I've seen you undressed."

"Tired," she suddenly announced as she lay back against her pillows and closed her eyes.

"Then I'll let you rest. I'll be back this afternoon. Maybe you'll actually let me stay this time."

He slowly left her room and walked to the elevators. As much as he loved her, the visits always left him exhausted and demoralized. Right now he just wanted to put his fists through the nearest wall repeatedly until the feelings of frustration went away.

After he left, Jill lay back on her pillow as her brain tried to deal with all of the thoughts that were swirling through it. She still didn't believe that Cleve was dead. She decided that it was just a story to make her feel closer to him. Cleve would show up and when he did, she knew that he'd give her the worst beating of her life. He didn't like it when she talked to other men. As for the sex part, maybe he'd seen her undressed, but she'd remember if she'd had sex with him. Especially if what he said was true and she actually enjoyed it.

She'd just dozed off and she heard her door open. She opened her eyes to see Dr. Conti stepping up to her bed and checking her chart. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"Tired," she protested as she closed her eyes.

"Just give me five minutes, okay?" He walked to the end of the bed and raised it before walking over and helping her adjust her pillows. "Better?" He asked as she nodded. "Do you know why you're here?"

Why was she here? Had anybody told her? Had Cleve beat her? Had one of the bikers? Why couldn't she remember?" No," she shook her head, forgetting that Mike had told her about the bus accident.

"There was a bus accident. You were going home from work. Do you remember that?" He asked as she started to become agitated. "Okay, never mind that for right now. I want you to think back. What's the last thing that you do remember before you woke up here?"

"Party."

"Do you remember who was at the party?"

"Cleve . . . Trap . . . Bear . . . Diane . . . no . . . Diane . . . wasn't . . . there. The . . . bathtub."

"What about the bathtub?"

"Ace . . . she . . . died . . . in . . . the . . . bathtub."

"Jill, let's forget about your friend Diane for right now. Was there anybody else at the party? Was Mike at the party?"

"No. I . . . don't . . . know . . . him."

"Were you and your friends doing drugs at the party? Relax, I'm not going to report you to the police," he quickly said when he saw how upset she was getting.

"I . . . smoked . . . some . . . weed . . . and . . . we . . . were . . . drinking."

"You don't remember Mike, at all?"

"No. He . . . told . . . me . . . that . . . Cleve's . . . dead."

"Yes, he's dead. I wanted him to wait before he told you, but now that you know, how does that make you feel?"

"I . . . don't . . . know. Am . . . I . . . getting . . . better?"

"You're coming along. Would you like for me to talk to you about your injuries?" She nodded as he continued. "When the police found you inside of the bus, you were buried under several seats and a lot of other stuff. You were suffering from hypoxia. This means that there was a loss of oxygen to your brain. You were in a coma for eight days. You're doing extremely well, Jill, especially for somebody who suffered the type of injury that you sustained in the accident."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . walk. I . . . want . . . to . . . sound . . . nor . . . normal."

"I know that. And you will, with time. You have to be patient. Hopefully in a few weeks, you'll be improved enough to start the second phase of your recovery at Rancho Mirage."

"Where . . . is . . . that?"

"It's in the valley. It's a nice place with lots of trees and gardens. I also wanted to talk to you about your right hand. When Mike comes back this afternoon, I'll have a surgical consent for him to sign."

"What . . . are . . . you . . . going . . . to . . . do . . . to . . . my hand?" She asked in terror.

"It's okay. A hand surgeon is going to repair your hand so that it doesn't freeze into a fist and you can get rid of the brace. It's minor surgery. I'm going to let you rest because I understand that you have another date with Paul this afternoon."

She closed her eyes after the doctor left. She didn't want surgery. She was afraid of not waking up again. She wondered how much of her memory would be gone when she woke up this time.

***MJMJMJ***

Mike was in the locker room getting dressed when the guys came strolling in. "How's Jill?" Terry asked as he opened his locker.

"She was tired. She complains that the therapist is mean to her. I told her about Cleve."

"How'd she take the news?"

"I'm not sure. I still don't think she believes me. I think that I'll take her a strawberry milkshake," he grinned as he stood up.

"Michael Danko, always the romantic," Terry teased as Mike's grin broadened.

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was still in therapy when Mike arrived at the hospital, carrying a brown paper bag containing a milkshake. Dr. Conti flagged him down. "Here's the consent form for Jill's surgery."

"Thanks," Mike scrawled his name to the bottom after reading it. "Did you get a chance to talk to her?"

"Yeah. Do you know any of the people that she hung out with when she was Cleve?"

"Just one guy named Trap. He now works for one of my bosses. Why?"

"I asked her what her last memory was before she woke up here. She mentioned a party with Cleve, Trap, somebody named Bear and a woman named Diane. But then she said something about Diane being dead in a bathtub. She said that she smoked some weed and was drinking. I don't know when that party took place, but it probably occurred sometime in the late 60's."

"Did she ask you about Cleve?"

"She told me that you told her that he was dead and I confirmed it. I think that she's still trying to process that information. Keep being patient with her, Mike. What's in the bag?" He asked as he pointed toward the bag.

"I brought her a strawberry shake. It's all right for her to have, isn't it?"

"I don't see why not."

He was sitting in her room when Paul personally wheeled her in 20 minutes after he arrived. His heart sank as he noticed the tear stains on her face. Paul effortlessly lifted her onto the bed and carefully tucked her covers around her. "Rough afternoon?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, but she's making great progress," Paul smiled as he tucked a blanket around her shoulders. "She took a fall, so she's a little upset."

"Stop . . . talking . . . about . . . me . . . like . . . I'm . . . not . . . here!" She sniffled between sobs.

"I'll leave you two alone," Paul smiled as he stepped away from the bed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jill."

"Are you okay?" He asked in a concerned voice as he handed her a tissue.

"My . . . knee! I . . . fell . . . on . . . it! I . . . hurt!" She wailed.

"I'm so sorry," he lightly put his hand on her shoulder. "I brought you something that might make you feel better."

"What?" She asked suspiciously through her tears.

"This," he pulled the shake from the bag and placed it on her tray table, as her face lit up in the first real smile he'd seen in weeks. "I'm sorry if it's a little melted."

"Straw . . . berry. My . . . favorite," she continued smiling as he slid her table into place and put a straw into the cup. "Thank . . . you."

"You're very welcome."

"You . . . can . . . stay . . . for . . . a . . . while?"

"I can stay for as long as you want me to," he was surprised by her request. This was the first time that she'd actually wanted him to stay. Maybe this was the opening that he needed.

"You're . . . the . . . only . . . person . . . who . . . visits. And . . . you're . . . nice," she blushed as she sipped her shake.

"My parents taught me to be nice and then VMI finished the job?"

"VMI?"

"Virginia Military Institute. My father sent me there when I was seven."

"He . . . sent . . . you . . . away? Why?"

"Why is a long story. I was sent away to school until I was 18, and then I joined the army. I stayed in the army for almost 13 years."

"That's . . . the . . . uniform . . . from . . . the . . . picture?"

"Yeah, that's the uniform in the picture."

"I'm tired," she suddenly announced as she pushed her tray table away. "Can . . . you . . . stay . . . until . . . I . . . go . . . to . . . sleep?"

"I'll stay until you go to sleep," he answered in a gentle voice as he softly moved his hand on her forehead.

"That . . . feels . . . nice," she murmured sleepily as she fell asleep.

He smiled to himself, realizing that he had indeed gotten the opening that he needed.

**A/N: I apologize for Jill's halting speech. It's going to be this way for the next several chapters, though it will gradually get better.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimers: If I really owned 'The Rookies,' I'd be living in a house with a pool, and nanny service for my niece and nephew, who'd be living on the third floor of my new house.**

**Summary: Jill tries to sort through her increasing conflicting feelings regarding Mike, while he rejoices over the small breakthrough that he's discovered. This chapter is rated M because of some of the subject matter. I'd rather be safe than get in trouble with the fanfiction police.**

**A/N: This chapter wasn't in my original version of this story. So, for my followers who read the original story, enjoy. There will probably be a few added chapters. I just wanted to slow things down a little.**

**I want to thank Gina G. for letting me inside of her head. I know that it has to be hard explaining what she was thinking and feeling during those dark days.**

**Oh, and the M&M's/Lay's Potato Chips thing is one of my addictions. You eat them together, but it has to be regular Lay's. No other flavor or brand works quite as well. My other addiction is vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup and hot peanuts. I'll probably use that in another story.**

Chapter 6: Conflicting Feelings and Breakthroughs

When Jill woke up, it was dark outside. She sat up and reached for her call button, ringing for a nurse. "Is something wrong, Jill?" The nurse asked when she walked in.

Jill hated asking for things from the nurses. It took her forever to get her requests out, and some of the nurses appeared impatient as she did. "Water?" She finally asked as the nurse poured some water into a cup and placed a straw in it for her.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Yes. Light," she pointed to the light above her bed. After the nurse switched on the light, she noticed the book that was lying on top of the chest of drawers. She wasn't aware that Mike had left the photo album. "Book?" She pointed toward the book.

The nurse brought the book over and placed it on her tray table and placed it within easy reach of Jill. "Ring if you need anything else," the nurse smiled as she left the room.

At least she seemed to have one of the less impatient nurses tonight. She thought that the others were related to Paul the Therapist. She opened the album, immediately seeing more pictures of herself with Mike. In most of the pictures, he was looking at her in a way that made her feel funny deep down inside. But, she noticed that she was looking at him the same way in the pictures. She traced her fingers over the pictures of him, wanting so badly to remember.

As she looked at the pictures on the first few pages of the album, her mind drifted back to that other man. Her first horrible memory was of a stifling summer day in her grandfather's barn. He'd been huge, but then she hadn't had a point of reference. He'd been the first man she'd ever seen naked. She closed her eyes as tears trickled down her cheeks as she remembered the horrible ripping pain and then the blood when it was all over.

Now her mind wandered back to this new man. Mike had been kind to her. Every time he visited her he tried to bring her something. Somehow he knew her weakness for M&M's and Lay's Potato Chips. He'd bring those to her at least every other day. He'd sit and listen to her halting, stammering speech, but would never once attempt to either finish her sentences, or get impatient, as the hospital staff was wont to do.

She was so confused. She'd always wanted a man who'd be nice to her. Cleve had been nice to her, at first. He'd brought her candy, gum, and soda. When he'd learned that she liked to read, he brought her cheap paperbacks. But that kindness harbored a price which she learned about that awful day in the barn. She wondered if that was going to be Mike's price, too.

She thought about that house in the Hollywood Hills. Cleve had brought her and Trap to the house owned by his father. At first Jill was thrilled. It sure beat chopping cotton in the hot Alabama sun. The house was the biggest thing she'd ever seen. It even had a pool, just like on TV. But her happiness vanished that first night in the upstairs bedroom when he unzipped his pants and forced her to her knees in front of him. She was horrified. She couldn't believe that he actually expected her to do that. She thought that he was going to choke her to death. But, doing that was tame compared to what he did to her night after night.

Mike had told her that they had sex. He'd even told her that she enjoyed it, something that was completely foreign to her. She wondered if she liked doing _that _to him. She swallowed hard to keep from gagging as she remembered those nights.

She remembered saying something to Dr. Conti about Diane. Jill had started taking Quaaludes and downing them with Johnny Walker Red. It made everything fuzzy and far away as Cleve drove into her body on a nightly basis. She'd learned the trick from Diane, the old lady of one of the bikers that Cleve had befriended. Nobody saw any danger in it.

No, there was no danger in it until Ace found Diane face down in the bathtub. The word was that she'd drowned. Maybe she did. Jill was never completely sure. But, she stopped taking 'Ludes right after that. She also stopped fighting Cleve. That was when she started praying that he'd just kill her like he was always threatening to do.

She wondered if Mike knew about her past with Cleve. He couldn't, she shook her head. If he knew, he wouldn't be acting so devoted toward her. What man wanted to be with someone who was so completely fucked up? Did she want to tell him? If she told him, he'd run away. Was that what she wanted? With her left hand, she reached over and felt her right shoulder, feeling the deep gouge that was almost two inches long. He said that he'd seen the scars. Did he know how she'd gotten them? Did he know how she'd gotten all of them?

She glanced down at her right hand, which was encased in a heavy metal and leather brace. They were operating on it tomorrow. The surgery scared her. The doctor had told her that she'd been in a coma for eight days. Eight days had caused her to lose more than five years of her life. What would happen after tomorrow? Would she again lose more time? She didn't want to forget Mike, although she still found it hard to believe that she was married to anybody, let alone someone as kind as he was. But, losing more time would make her forget Cleve. It would be nice to go to sleep and wake up not remembering anything from her life with him.

She looked up when someone knocked on her door. One of the nurses poked her head in. "Can I come in?"

"Why? I . . . don't . . . need . . . anything."

"I'm Jackie. You and I are best friends," she said as she walked in.

"You're . . . one . . . of . . . Mike's . . . friends."

"I know Mike, but I'm friends with _you," _Jackie reiterated.

"You . . . know . . . of . . . him . . . with . . . me?"

"Oh yeah, everybody knows of him with you," Jackie smiled. "We like to joke around that you're married to the world's most perfect man."

"Really?" The thought made Jill smile a little. Let's get this straight. He was kind and perfect? What in the hell had she stumbled into?

"He looks at you like there's nobody else in the room. It's very cute."

"I'm . . . confused," she complained as her eyes filled with tears.

"I know," Jackie reached for her left hand and squeezed it. "You must feel like you've fallen down the rabbit hole. But, I know Mike will wait for you. He loves you and he's not going to give up, so don't you give up."

"Do . . . we . . . have . . . kids?"

"No, no children," Jackie answered quickly, not wanting to speak about an awful night just a few months earlier. She knew that her friend wasn't ready to learn of that.

"So, it's . . . just . . . us?"

"Yeah, and his ever-present friends. I'm sure he'll bring them around when you're feeling a little bit better."

"You . . . don't . . . like . . . them?"

"No, I like them very much. I think they annoy you sometimes. If you're confused about how you think that you're supposed to feel about Mike, don't worry about it. I think that it's all going to come back and you're going to remember exactly how crazy you are about him."

After Jackie left, Jill felt as if her mind was swirling crazily. Maybe she was right. It would all come back. She remembered how his hand had felt on her forehead earlier that evening as she was drifting off to sleep. Something told her that he was quite familiar with soothing her to sleep like that. She smiled as she fell asleep. She couldn't wait to see him again.

***MJMJMJ***

Mike was sitting on the patio enjoying the late evening breeze as he nursed a drink. He was so happy that Jill had actually asked him to stay that afternoon. She hadn't resisted him when he'd brushed his fingers over her forehead. She'd even said that it felt nice.

Thinking of her the way that she was right now was so hard. It was too reminiscent of the first time he'd ever seen her. Seeing her behind that bar, it was too easy to see how broken she was. It didn't take him long to understand that she wasn't going to let him in easily. He was going to have to scratch and claw for every smile, every touch.

It took him three long months to be given complete access to the kingdom. The first time he'd ever held her in his arms as his fingers had played over her bare skin had been magical. What began that night transcended everything he'd ever had with any other woman he'd ever been with.

The doctor had told him when the accident had happened that he wasn't sure how much of the old Jill he was going to get back. Mike didn't care if he never got the old Jill back. He just wanted to get the Jill back who'd smiled at him as if he was the only man in the world.

He loved waking up in the morning before she awoke just to look at her. She always seemed to know when he was doing this, and she'd turned to face him with a sleepy smile on her face, a smile that was just for him. He relished pulling her close so that they could share that first long, lingering kiss of the morning. He smiled as if he could hear her giggles of protest when he'd start moving his hands over her, her body as familiar to him as his own.

He didn't know how to convince her that they were indeed a couple. That the two of them shared a history that was every bit as complex as anything that she'd shared with Cleve. But he decided that today was a good start. Now that she knew that Cleve was dead, maybe she could stop fixating on being so scared.

He had no idea that for every step forward his wife would take, there would be two steps backward.

**A/N: There will probably be a few newer chapters, which will be short, but hopefully will tie some things up a little. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimers; Do I own 'The Rookies?' Wait. I have to finish laughing first. No, I don't own the show.**

**Summary: Mike allows Willie and Terry to visit Jill as she accidentally learns what her husband does for a living. Her progress continues, which leads to a decision about the second part of her rehabilitation.**

Chapter 7: Old Friends or New Friends?

The following morning, Jill was waiting for the orderly to take her to the operating room for her hand surgery. She was scared and jumpy when the door opened and Mike walked in. "Hi," he whispered as he walked over and pulled up a chair.

"Hi," she answered in a small, scared voice. ""They . . . gave . . . me . . . a . . . shot."

"Then why aren't you sleepy?"

"Afraid."

"What're you afraid of?" His blue eyes narrowed in concern.

"I . . . might . . . not . . . wake . . . up."

Jill, you're going to be fine."

"What . . . if . . . I . . . forget . . . more?"

"You're afraid that you're going to wake up and remember even less than you do now?" He guessed as she nodded. "I don't think that's going to happen. You're going to come out of this surgery and your hand is going to be so much better. Maybe they'll even stop making you wear that brace."

"I . . . hope . . . so. Hurts," she admitted as the two orderlies entered the room with a gurney.

"I see that your carriage is here," he smiled as she gave him a funny look. "What's the matter?"

"I've . . . heard . . . someone . . . say . . . that . . . before," she looked puzzled as the orderly came over and helped her onto the gurney.

"Do you want me to walk with you to the elevator?" He asked, as he tried to hide a small smile of victory.

"Yes," she answered simply as she was wheeled out of the room toward the elevator.

"I'll see you soon," he assured her as they wheeled the gurney onto the elevator and the door closed behind them.

He stood against the wall continuing to smile. On occasion when they were dating and when they were first reunited, he'd tell her that her 'carriage waited yonder.' He'd stopped saying it after the incident with Lee Borden, because it seemed that everything associated with that nightmare now caused her fear, including certain things that might've been said in jest. It had taken months for the children's nursery rhyme 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' to stop making her scream in fear when she heard it.

He made a note to let Dr. Conti know that some words were causing recognition in Jill's mind.

Jill was in surgery for almost two hours and in recovery for another 45 minutes before she was moved back to her room. Her right hand was wrapped in several layers of thick gauze and covered with an ace bandage. Mike was sitting there watching her as she slept with his head leaning against the metal railing when he heard a light tap on the door. He looked up as Terry and Willie walked in, Terry holding a vase of flowers. "How's she doing?" He whispered, careful not to wake her.

"She's still out of it. Nice flowers," he commented as he got up and ushered them from the room.

Terry placed the flowers on the dresser before following Mike and Willie from the room. "How'd the surgery go?"

"The hand surgeon thinks that it went really well. He said that he'll know more in a day or two as she recovers," he said with a wry grin.

"What's going on?" Terry asked. "Did Jill suddenly remember something?"

"No. I said something earlier about her carriage arriving or something like that. It was something that I used to tease her about all of the time. I haven't said it in a while. She made a comment about someone having said that before."

"That's good, isn't it? It means that she's starting to remember, doesn't it?" Willie asked excitedly.

"I don't think so, William. I don't think she's going to wake up and suddenly remember all of us. I think it means that the memories are there. They just need to come to the surface so that she can sort them out."

"Mike, we'd really like to visit her. Maybe she won't remember us, but we miss her," Terry said.

"I know. Look, it's all baby steps with Jill right now. Some of it is heartbreaking to watch. Let me talk to her and see how she feels about visitors. She might welcome someone besides me coming to see her."

"Okay, well we have to get back to work. Kiss her for us when she wakes up," Terry said as Mike made a face and shook his head. "Never mind, just do whatever it is you're doing these days to let her know that we care about her."

"I will. Thanks again for the flowers."

He went back into her room and sat down, once again leaning his head against the railing. He sat like that for a long time before he saw Jill's eyes flutter open. She turned her head toward him and fully opened her eyes. "Cleve . . . won't . . . like . . . seeing . . . you . . . here," she whispered as she fought to stay awake.

His heart sank. He couldn't believe that she still thought that Cleve was alive. Yesterday she seemed to accept the news that he was dead. He decided to let the news about his death go for the time being. He'd try to bring it up again when she was stronger and more alert. "How do you feel?" He asked as he brushed her hair off of her forehead.

"Tired. Thirsty. Can . . . I . . . have . . . some . . . water?"

"Let me check with the nurse. I'll be right back," he left the room and returned several minutes later with a plastic cup. "Jill?"

"What?"

"The nurse said that you can't have any water right now, but I've got some ice chips," he sat down and placed some in her mouth. "Are you in pain?"

"No," she sucked on the ice chips. "Just . . . tired."

"Then close your eyes and go to sleep," he smiled as she did just that.

***MJMJMJ***

When the bandages came off of her hand several days later, Paul decided that it was time to move the therapy to the swimming pool, much to Jill's horror. Her eyes widened in terror as he had Curtis wheel her down to the pool. "What . . . are . . . you . . . doing?"

"Taking the next step in your therapy. You can now take six steps on the parallel bars in the exercise room. Water makes you buoyant, thus increasing your confidence. By the time we leave this pool, you'll have taken your 10 steps. We're going to work in the pool every day until you can take those 10 steps upstairs," he informed her as she began shaking her head. "Jill, it doesn't matter if you can't swim."

"How . . . deep?"

"Five feet."

"No!" She screamed at him as Paul and Curtis exchanged looks.

"Jill, you don't have a choice. I'm going to be honest here. Your progress sucks! I should've had you graduated to a walker by now, working your way up to using crutches. You shouldn't still be trying to walk the length of the bars. You should be way beyond that! Now, you and I are going to get into this pool and we're going to work harder than you've ever thought possible. Curt, bring her down into the water," he instructed his assistant.

Jill began to scream and fight as Curtis wheeled her down the ramp into the pool. "Take . . . me . . . out!" She continued to flail and scream as Paul waded her way over to her.

"Jill, I'm not going to let you drown!" He shouted as she stopped struggling. "You're going to be doing the same thing here that you've been doing upstairs. The only difference is you're going to be doing it in water."

"You . . . won't . . . let . . . me . . . fall?"

"The water will hold you up. You're going to be okay," he assured her as he nodded at Curtis, who lifted her into his powerful arms and walked through the water toward the parallel bars, where he put her down.

Paul was right. Standing in the water was easier, but he didn't understand how afraid she was of deep water. At least she could stand with her feet on the bottom of the pool and her head was still above the water. Since the surgery, her hand was slightly better. At least it didn't feel like jell-o anymore. She still couldn't grip things tightly with it, but she'd been assured that would get better in time, which was why in addition to Paul and Lydia, her speech therapist, she'd now been assigned a hand therapist, as well.

After exercising in the pool, he helped her get dried off and cleaned up before taking her back to her room. He looked at his watch, seeing that it was still a little early for Mike's lunchtime visit. He decided that he wanted to talk to him when he arrived. He lifted Jill into her bed and covered her with a light blanket before clicking the railing into place "Can . . . I . . . walk . . . with . . . somebody?"

"You want to get out of bed?" He clarified as she nodded. "I can't say that I blame you. If you promise not to overdo it, we'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Not . . . today?"

"I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm going to give you the afternoon off," Jill frowned as he watched her. "What's wrong?"

"You . . . said . . . I . . . sucked. How . . . do . . . I . . . get . . . better . . . if . . . you . . . give . . . me . . . time . . . off?"

"Good point. You're absolutely right. Do you want to get back into the pool or go to the exercise room?"

"Room."

"Okay, then I'll see you at two o'clock," he was smiling to himself as he walked to the elevator just as Mike stepped off. "Mr. Danko, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"It's Mike, and yes you can. What's going on?"

"Can Jill swim?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I started her on aqua therapy this morning and she completely freaked out on me. I thought for a minute that I was going to have to have her sedated."

"Jill doesn't like deep water. If she can't stand up, she'll freak out. Is she okay now?"

"Yeah, she's fine. She wants to know when she can start walking with somebody. When I suggested giving her the afternoon off, she refused."

"She actually wants to go to therapy?" Mike asked dubiously.

"I told her this morning that her progress wasn't going very well. I think that might've motivated her just a bit. Anyway, I'll be back for her around two," he said as he rang for the elevator.

Jill was sitting up in bed when Mike walked in. "Paul . . . tried . . . to . . . drown . . . me," she complained as he smiled.

"He just didn't understand that you're afraid of deep water," he pulled a chair over and sat down.

"You . . . know . . . that?"

"Yeah, I know all about that. I've got a great idea! Would you like to go outside for a little while?" Her whole face lit up at the idea.

"Oh yes!" She agreed happily.

"Let me go get a wheelchair and I'll be right back," he left, but returned moments later with the chair. He brought the chair over to the bed and lowered the rail. "Put your arm around my neck," he instructed as he lifted her up and placed her in the chair, covering her with a light blanket. He couldn't get over how much weight she'd lost. While she'd always been thin and light, now she was like lifting a feather.

He made a pit stop in the lobby where he bought a couple of sodas and some stuff from the vending machine before wheeling her out of the lobby and out onto the hospital grounds. Finding a shady area under a huge oak tree, he set the brake on the chair before opening her can of soda and placing it in her stronger left hand. "Thanks," she smiled as she sipped the drink.

"Your dietician is probably going to kill me, but which one do you want? Potato or corn chips?" She pointed to the potato chips. "Potato chips, it is."

"This . . . is . . . much . . . better . . . than . . . my . . . real . . . lunch," she grinned.

"The food's not very good, huh?" She made a face as he laughed. "Well, we can't do this every day, but I thought that you needed a break."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . walk."

"I know. And you will as soon as Paul tells me what I need to do. I don't want to hurt you. Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"We have a couple of friends that are really anxious to see you. They've been begging me for weeks now. Would you like to see them?"

"Are . . . they . . . men?"

"Yeah, they're men. They work with me. They miss you and want to see you."

"I . . . don't . . . know."

"Is it Cleve? Are you afraid that he'll catch you talking to them?" He asked as she nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Jill, don't you really think that if Cleve cared, he'd be here by now? He'd at least try to get you out of here."

"May . . . maybe . . . he's . . . in . . . jail," she suggested.

"Or maybe the doctors and nurses are still keeping him from you because they like me better," Mike added.

"Maybe," she agreed.

"Okay, then let's try this. How about if I bring them around to see you for five minutes while I stand outside and act as a lookout for Cleve?"

"You'd . . . do . . . that?"

"Sure, I'd do that. Is it okay?"

"To . . . tomorrow . . . at . . . lunch."

"They can visit tomorrow at lunchtime?" He wanted to make sure that was what she was saying as she nodded. "Okay, I'll let them know. They'll be happy to see you."

It was a nice afternoon. One that Jill didn't want to end, but all too soon she had to face another therapy session with Paul. "I understand that Mike took you outside for lunch," he commented as they worked on her leg exercises.

"I . . . had . . . potato . . . chips . . . and . . . root . . . beer," she smiled as Paul laughed.

"That sounds like a great lunch date to me," he said as she smiled in agreement.

***MJMJMJ***

The next afternoon, the three guys stepped off of the elevator and walked toward Jill's room. "What do we say to her?" Terry asked, suddenly terrified at what they faced when they went into her room.

"Let her decide. I told her that I'd stand out here and act as a lookout. And remember, she's only giving you two five minutes," he reminded them.

The one thing that Mike had neglected to remember was the sight of Terry and Willie in their uniforms. He'd always made a point of changing before his twice daily visits. It wasn't until they got ready to go into her room that it hit him like a hammer. She was going to immediately think that she'd done something wrong.

Her eyes widened when the two police officers entered her room. "Cops? What . . . did . . . I . . . do?"

"You haven't done anything wrong, Jill. We're friends of Mike's. I'm Terry Webster and this is Willie Gillis," Terry introduced them as they slowly walked toward her bed as she continued eying them suspiciously.

"Mike . . . didn't . . . tell . . . me."

"He didn't tell you that we were cops?" Willie asked as she nodded as her eyes went back and forth between the two strange men.

"He . . . said . . . friends."

"We're friends of both of you," Terry explained.

"No," she shook her head. "I . . . don't . . . like . . . cops."

"Why?" Willie glanced at his partner.

"Cleve . . . told . . . me . . . not . . . to."

"And you do everything that he tells you to?" Willie wondered, still unaware of the full story of her relationship with the man who'd almost killed all three of them just a few months ago.

"Yes."

Terry rubbed his eyes wearily. If she was so flipped out by them being cops, what was her reaction going to be when she learned that was married to one? "Have you seen him?" He asked.

"They . . . keep . . . him . . . away. Did . . . you . . . arrest . . . him?" She looked at the two of them with accusing eyes.

"No, we haven't arrested him," Willie answered, as if began to feel as if they were playing some kind of twisted game. Mike hadn't been kidding about his visits to Jill. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life.

"Check . . . records," she ordered them.

"We will," Terry nodded. "I think that our time is about up. Can we come back and visit again?"

"Not . . . dressed . . . like . . . that," she said in disgust.

"We'll wear our street clothes next time. Take it easy, Jill," Terry said as they left the room and over to Mike. "That was exhausting. She thinks that we've arrested Cleve. I thought you told her that Cleve was dead."

"The doctor said that she has problems with short term memory. She'll forget things that we've told her. I didn't even think about you guys going in there in your uniforms. Was she upset?" Mike asked.

"Well, she didn't exactly welcome us with opened arms," Willie said sarcastically.

"William, she wasn't exactly receptive to me at first, either, and I'm married to her. I'm sorry," he apologized to his good friends once again.

"She said that we can visit as long as we're not in uniform. Mike, does she know that you're one of us?" Terry asked.

"No."

"Are you going to tell her?" Willie asked.

"Eventually I'm going to have to. Right now, I'm trying to just get her trust built back up. If I tell her that I'm a cop, I'm going to lose that trust. Like I told you guys, it's all baby steps. But at least she told you that you can come back."

"We have to get back on duty. We'll talk to you tonight," Terry said as they walked to the elevator.

He looked at his watch before going back into Jill's room. He knew that Paul would send one of his assistants around soon to take her to her afternoon therapy session, this time in the pool, which she hated and feared. Since he had the day off, he decided to try to convince Paul to let him stay for her session.

"You . . . didn't . . . tell . . . me . . . that . . . they . . . were . . . cops," she accused when he walked in.

"I'm sorry, but you didn't ask," he said in a light voice as he sat down.

"Not . . . funny."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to be funny. Would you like me to bring you a tape player and some music from home? I can do that tonight when I come back."

"You . . . don't . . . know . . . what . . . I . . . like."

"Yes I do. You like Van Morrison, The Beatles, some Rolling Stones, The Turtles. Should I continue?"

"Favorite . . . song?"

"Oh, a quiz," he smiled. "Okay, I'm game. Your favorite song is 'My Back Pages' by the Byrds. Actually, you have different favorite songs depending on what kind of mood you're in."

She frowned, wondering how he knew so damn much about her. He kept insisting that they were married, but she still didn't feel that kind of a connection to him. But, then she didn't know how it was supposed to feel to be married. After all, she'd lived with Cleve for more than five years and she also felt absolutely nothing for him except for fear and hatred. Maybe not feeling anything for another person was normal. Sure, Mike was nice and she had come to look forward to his twice daily visits, but she didn't feel as if he was somebody that she'd want to spend the rest of her life with. How had they met? She was almost never allowed out of the house in the Hollywood Hills. Cleve never allowed it. And the only people who ever came to the house were the bikers and she knew all of them. Mike was definitely _not _one of the bikers.

Mike smiled as he watched her. It was almost as if he could see the wheels turning in her brain as she tried to process information. It made him wonder what she was thinking about. "What're you thinking about?" He finally asked.

"Confused," she frowned.

"What're you confused about? Maybe I can help."

"You. How . . . do . . . you . . . know . . . things . . . about . . . me?"

"We're married, Jill. You learn things about another person when you spend so much time with them. You also know quite a lot about me, you just don't remember any of it right now."

"How . . . can . . . I . . . be . . . mar . . . married . . . to . . . you . . . when . . . I'm . . . not . . . allowed . . . to . . . leave . . . the . . . house?"

She took a deep breath was he sat patiently watching her. He knew that long sentences left her exhausted, which was why she kept her responses and questions short. "I'll tell you what. Let's give things a rest for today. You're getting tired and you still have to go to therapy in about 20 minutes."

"Mike . . . you . . . tell . . . Paul . . . no . . . pool . . . today."

Today was the first time that she'd addressed him by name since before the accident. Hearing his name on her tongue made him smile. "I know that the deep water scares you, but Paul said that you did great in the pool yesterday. Wasn't it easier for you to stand up and move your legs?"

"I . . . don't . . . care," she insisted stubbornly as she shook her head furiously.

"You said that you want to walk outside of therapy, right?" She nodded as he continued. "You're not going to be allowed to do that until you can reach the end of the bars in that pool."

"Okay. You . . . go . . . with . . . me," she decided with stubborn determination.

"Sweetie, Paul's not trying to kill you. He won't let me go to your sessions with you. Besides, my swim trunks are at home," he added as an excuse.

"Bring . . . them . . . to . . . tomorrow."

Whether she saw it or not, Mike could see shades of the Jill that he knew before the accident shining through. The old Jill had all of the men in her life twisted around her little finger. Whether it was Terry, Willie, Lt. Ryker, or especially him, she knew how to get all of them to give in to her. He knew that she thought her therapist Paul would also succumb to her charms. Mike wasn't so sure.

When Paul arrived to take her to therapy, Mike asked to speak to him in the hallway. "Jill's insistent that you're trying to kill her."

"All of my patients think the same thing, Mike. It's five feet of water. It has to be at least that deep for the therapy to work."

"She wants me to go with her."

"No," Paul shook his head. "Therapy is rough. I don't want complaints that I'm being mean to her or that I'm hurting her. I already get enough of that from your wife."

"What if I were to go in an assistant capacity?"

"Mike, I already have an assistant. When do you have to go back to work?"

"I have the day off," he said expectantly.

"Hang around here. She'll be done in the pool at three. I'll show you how to get her on her feet and walking the halls."

When she arrived back in her room shortly after three, her hair was damp from the shower that she'd been given after the pool. Mike was sitting in her room when Paul brought her back in. "Are you going to listen and do exactly as I say?" Paul asked Mike.

"Without question."

"Jill, how do you feel about more therapy?" Paul asked her.

"I . . . thought . . . that . . . I . . . was . . . done . . . for . . . the . . . day."

"I also thought that you wanted to walk with somebody. Meet Mike, your new therapist. You'll probably agree that he's nicer than I am," he smiled as he looked at Mike.

"Every . . . everybody's . . . nicer . . . than . . . you."

"Cute. Listen to me carefully. You're going to walk from this room to the next room and back again. No further. We'll increase your distance in a few days. Mike, you're going to support her on her left side. I know this is her stronger side, which is my point. This forces her to use her right leg to get her where she wants to go. Help her with her robe and slippers and let's do this," Paul instructed as Mike assisted her with her robe and slippers before standing up.

"Easy," Mike cautioned as he slipped his arm around her waist on her left side and helped her to her feet.

"Don't mollycoddle her, Mike. Jill, this is going to work just like the bars. You know how to do this," Paul reminded her as they slowly made their out to the hallway.

It was difficult and exhausting, but with Mike's help, she managed to get from her room to the next room and back again. Of course, it had taken her over half an hour and had left her shaking and exhausted afterward, but she did it. "You did great," Mike praised her as he helped her back into bed and raised the rail.

"To . . . tomorrow . . . we . . . go . . . two . . . doors," she insisted.

"We'll go further when Paul says it's okay. If you keep improving at this rate, you'll be ready to leave here in no time."

"Leave? Home?" She appeared terrified at the prospect.

"Well not yet, but soon. First, they're going to move you to another hospital where you'll continue your rehab, and then when you're ready, they'll let you come home," she still appeared terrified. "What's wrong? Don't you want to leave here?"

"No."

"No? Why?"

"If . . . I . . . fall . . . Cleve . . . won't . . . help . . . me."

"You're right, he probably wouldn't. But I would. Jill, you'd be coming home with me."

"No," she pounded the bed in anger. "I . . . can't . . . go . . . with . . . you!"

"You know what? You've had a long day and you're tired, so we'll talk about this later," he tried to calm her down. "I'll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest."

She lay back against her pillows after he'd left the room. How could she make him understand that she couldn't go home with him? If she did, and Cleve found them, he'd kill them both.

The next morning, Jill was lying in bed when she heard a light tapping on her door. She sat up, knowing that it was too early for Mike. The door opened and Willie stepped in, holding out a deck of cards. "I called and they said that I could visit before you have to go to therapy. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Where's . . . your . . . friend?"

"He had to work. He said that he'll stop by this afternoon. I brought a deck of cards. Do you remember how to play gin rummy?"

"I'm . . . not . . . stupid!" She made a face. "I . . . don't . . . remember . . . things . . . and . . . some . . . people. I . . . remember . . . games."

"I didn't mean to insult you," he apologized as he rolled her tray table over to the bed before pulling up a chair.

"You'll . . . have . . . to . . . shuffle. My . . . hand . . . doesn't . . . work . . . very . . . well."

"Maybe shuffling would be good exercise," he suggested.

"Maybe," she agreed. "Question?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"How . . . do . . . you . . . know . . . me?"

"Well, I've been friends with Mike since the police academy and I met you through him," he explained.

Jill's face went pale as she focused on just two of the words that Willie had just said. 'Police Academy.' "Mike's . . . a . . . cop?"

He instantly realized that he'd made a huge mistake. 'Mike's going to kill me,' he thought to himself. "Jill, I'm sorry. I thought that Mike had told you yesterday, especially after we visited you."

"Walk" she pushed the tray table away.

"You want me to leave?" He looked confused.

"No. Left . . . side. Walk . . . with . . . me . . . down . . . the . . . hall."

"Should we be doing this?" He seemed skeptical as Jill glared at him.

"I . . . did . . . it . . . yes . . . yesterday."

"Okay. So I need to be on your left side?" He repeated her instructions as she nodded. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

"Just . . . be . . . slow. It . . . takes . . . me . . . a . . . long . . . time."

"Okay."

She was out in the hallway with Willie, when Paul stepped off of the elevators. "What do you think you're doing?" He raged as he stomped over toward them. "Who in the hell is this guy?"

"Willie. Friend. Walking," she stared at her therapist defiantly.

"You do your walking at the end of the day with Mike! Are you going to be too tired for therapy, Jill? Because if you are, I'm sorry! I don't want to hear your excuses today!" He continued to rant at Jill and her companion.

"Are . . . you . . . going . . . to . . . be . . . too . . . tired . . . Paul?"

"Let's go. I don't have time for this!" He shouted as Willie helped her into a wheelchair.

Paul's anger extended into their therapy session, which was rougher than normal, leaving Jill in tears. "Are . . . you . . . going . . . to . . . send . . . me . . . back . . . to . . . Cleve?" She asked through her tears.

"I don't know who Cleve is, Jill. I want to get you ready for Rancho Mirage, maybe by early next week. But I don't want you overdoing it. I know that you want to walk, but what if that guy had injured you? I taught Mike what to do. Your friend didn't have a clue."

"When . . . I . . . go . . . to . . . Rancho . . . Mirage . . . you'll . . . call . . . Cleve? You'll . . . tell . . . him . . . where . . . I . . . am."

"Like I just said, I don't know who Cleve is. Maybe you could clue me in on who he is."

"My . . . old . . . man. I . . . live . . . with . . . him."

"I see. What about Mike? I thought that Mike was your old man."

"No," she shook her head. "Only . . . Cleve."

"Then where is he? Don't you think that if he cared, he'd be hanging around, trying to help you get better? Mike's doing all of that and more. He actually wants to get involved in your therapy. I don't see anybody else hanging around, wanting to jump in. Maybe you should think about cutting Cleve loose. Mike's the real deal, if you ask me."

"No. Cop."

"So, he's a cop. I know a lot of cops and most of them are decent guys."

"He . . . didn't . . . tell . . . me."

"Maybe he thought that you weren't ready to hear it. Did you ever think about that?"

***MJMJMJ***

Willie was waiting in Jill's room when Paul's assistant brought her back. "Paul said she's not to do any more walking until this afternoon when Mike gets here."

"Okay," Willie agreed as the assistant put Jill in her bed and covered her with the sheet and blanket.

"You . . . waited," she said after the assistant left the room.

"I thought that we could still play cards."

"Okay," she smiled.

The two of them were playing a heated game of gin rummy when Mike arrived. Her eyes didn't light up as they had been lately when he came to visit. He instantly knew that something was wrong. "Uh Willie, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mike stepped away from her door as Willie came outside. "She knows that I'm a cop, doesn't she?"

"Mike, it was an accident. She asked me how I knew her and I made a comment about the academy. I'm sorry."

"Well, there's not anything that I can do about it now."

"I am sorry."

"I know. What were you two doing?"

"Playing gin rummy. I'll leave the cards in case she gets bored. I'm going to go and leave you two alone. I'll talk to you later."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you," Mike apologized when he went back into her room.

"Well . . . you . . . should . . . have."

"I know," he agreed. "Have you had lunch?"

"Not . . . hungry."

"Are you that mad at me?"

"No. Not . . . at . . . you. I . . . don't . . . want . . . to . . . go . . . to . . . that . . . other . . . place."

"What other place? Rancho Mirage?" She nodded. "Why?"

"I . . . can't . . . see . . . you. They'll . . . let . . . Cleve . . . know . . . where . . . I . . . am."

"You're afraid that if you go to Rancho Mirage, somebody there will call Cleve and tell him where to find you?" She looked at him with tears in her eyes as he tried to think of what to tell her.

He was still trying to come up with a fix when she suddenly burst into tears. Not knowing what to do, at first, he naturally did what he'd always done in situations like this out of habit. He simply walked over and pulled her into his arms and held her close to his chest. At first she resisted his touch, but she finally buried her face into his chest like she always did as she clutched as his shirt with her good hand. He held her like that as the tears finally slowed down to sniffles. "I'm . . . sorry," she sniffled as he handed her a tissue.

"What're you sorry for? I want you to listen to me. He's _not _going to find you. Nobody's going to let that happen."

"He . . . hits . . . me."

"I know," he sat on the edge of her bed as she stared at him. "I know all of the things that he's done to you. He's not going to do those things anymore," he vowed to her.

"You . . . know . . . every . . . everything?" She asked as she began to cry again.

"Jill, it's okay. We don't need to talk about any of that now. Willie said that he left the cards for you. Why don't we play before they bring your lunch and I'll help you eat?"

"Paul . . . got . . . mad . . . at . . . me . . . this . . . morning," she admitted as he shuffled the cards and dealt them out.

"Why'd he get mad at you?"

"Will . . . Willie . . . got . . . me . . . out . . . of . . . bed."

"Now do you think that was a good idea?"

"It . . . seemed . . . like . . . one . . . at . . . the . . . time," she gave him a grin as he couldn't help but grin back.

After he helped her eat lunch, she announced that she was tired. Mike had to get back to work soon, anyway, but he wanted to talk to Paul first. He found the therapist in the pool area setting up for Jill's afternoon session. "Can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Mike asked as he crouched by the pool.

"Your wife did something very foolish this morning."

"I know, she told me. I wanted to ask you about the rehabilitation hospital. Does she have to go there? If I work with her, can't I just take her home?" Paul looked at him.

"Do you live in a house or an apartment?"

"An apartment."

"On the ground level?"

"No, the second floor."

"Jill can't handle stairs, Mike. She'll like Rancho Mirage. It's a lot nicer than this place."

"What if I were to hire somebody to work with her on a one on one basis?"

"Again, it's too difficult in an apartment with stairs. I need to ask you something. She keeps mentioning this Cleve person. Who is he and why is he never here?"

"She used to live with him. He was killed by the police a few months ago. I've told her that he's dead, but she doesn't remember. She thinks that he's still alive and that he's going to come after her."

"So, he was abusive?" Paul guessed.

"Yeah."

"That explains the vibes that I've been getting from her when she talks about him. She's obviously scared to death of him."

"When are you going to move her?"

"Probably Monday or Tuesday of next week."

"I guess that I'll get her prepared mentally, then," Mike sighed in resignation.

In her sleep, Jill clearly saw a house that she'd never seen before. It was on a large lake with a dock. She could even see the ducks swimming on the lake. It was so real that she knew that it couldn't possibly be a dream. She opened her eyes just as Mike walked back into the room. "I . . . was . . . dreaming."

"Was it a bad dream?" He asked, concerned about her propensity for nightmares.

"I . . . saw . . . this . . . house. There . . . was . . . a . . . lake. A . . . big . . . window. It . . . felt . . . like . . . I've . . . been . . . there . . . before."

Mike couldn't believe it. She was clearly describing Lt. Ryker's cottage at the lake. She'd been there several months before after someone had made a series of attempts on the lieutenant's life. Jill herself had almost been killed after the assassin had planted a bomb in Ryker's car. "You have been there. It was several months ago. You were there with one of my bosses."

"Why?"

"It's a long story."

"Cleve . . . wouldn't . . . find . . . me . . . there. Right?"

"No, it's out in the country. He wouldn't be able to find you."

"Good. I'll . . . go . . . there," she said decisively.

He sat back, wondering if it would work. He also wondered if Lt. Ryker would go for it. After all, this was his home that they were talking about. It was a small house, but most importantly, it was a single story dwelling. That meant no stairs. He made a mental note to talk to Paul and Lt. Ryker, but he was almost positive that it could work.

**A/N: Sorry that this chapter ran on so long, but from now on they're all going to be long chapters. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimers: The show and the characters don't belong to me. My only responsibility is the storyline and the plot twists.**

**Summary: Mike talks to Paul and Lt. Ryker about the possibility of moving Jill out to the country while plans are made to move her rehabilitation forward.**

Chapter 8: A New Environment

Mike left Jill's room to once again to and talk to Paul to run the idea of moving Jill out to Lt. Ryker's house by him to see what he thought about it. This time he found Paul in the exercise room working with another patient. He excused himself when he saw Mike standing in the doorway. "Didn't we just talk?" Paul joked when he walked over.

"I want to run an idea by you. One of my superior officers has a house out in the countryside. Would it be possible for Jill to move out there and continue her therapy rather than going to the hospital?" Mike asked hopefully.

"Why are the two of you so resistant about her going to the hospital? I can't be going back and forth between three different places," Paul complained.

"Then come with her and be her full-time therapist. At least until you can get her to the point where I can take over."

"I'd have to talk to my boss here and at the other hospital. Let me do that and I'll get back to you. One more thing," he said as Mike looked at him. "I need to see the house."

"I'll see about arranging a tour."

"You talk to your boss and I'll talk to mine. We'll see what we can work out, but I'm not making any promises."

***MJMJMJ***

Lt. Ryker was in his office when Mike knocked on his door. "Enter!" He called out as Mike walked in. "Is there something that I can help you with, Danko?"

"Yes sir, maybe there is. As I'm sure you know by now, Jill doesn't remember a lot of things. However, one of the things that she does remember is your cottage. Would it be possible to move her out there to continue her therapy rather than moving her out to Rancho Mirage?"

"Danko, I don't know—" Ryker hedged as he sat back in his chair.

The house in the country had been built by Lt. Ryker for his late wife, Mary Kate. After her death, he'd virtually closed up the house for years and took an apartment in town. He only occasionally visited the house when he felt the need to get away from the city. As much as he adored Jill, he wasn't sure he was comfortable allowing her and a stranger to live there.

"I promise that she won't invade your privacy, sir," Mike read his lieutenant's mind.

"I realize that, Danko. Gillis and Webster were telling me that she doesn't remember Andrews being dead. How will she feel when she learns that someone from her past lives on my property?"

Trap. Mike hadn't thought about Trap. "I don't know, sir. I have to admit that I haven't given that a lot of thought. I was just thinking that since it seems to be familiar to her, she might start recuperating out there faster than she would in a strange place."

"Let me think about it and I'll get back to you."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

***MJMJMJ***

Later that afternoon, Terry stepped off of the elevator and spotted Jill holding onto the railing along the wall as she slowly walked. "Should you be doing this?" He fell into step beside her.

"No . . . one . . . said . . . that . . . I . . . couldn't."

"What if you fall? Tell me what to do and I'll help you."

"I've . . . already . . . fallen. I . . . don't . . . want . . . to . . . get . . . you . . . in . . . trouble."

"I can take care of myself. Jill, please tell me what to do."

"Left . . . hand," she said as she held her hand out to him as he took it. "We'll . . . go . . . to . . . my . . . room . . . and . . . you . . . can . . . tell . . . me . . . about . . . Mike."

"What do you want to know?" He asked as he held her left hand as they slowly made the trip back to her room.

"Everything."

"I'm not sure that I know everything, but I'll try to answer any questions that you have," he said as they entered her room and he helped her back into bed.

"We . . . have . . . kids?" She asked, forgetting that she'd already asked her friend Jackie that same question.

"No, you don't have any children," he said, trying not to sound too sad with his answer.

"He's . . . very . . . nice," she admitted shyly as she bit her lower lip.

"Yeah, he's a real nice guy. He's one of my best friends."

"You . . . know . . . Cleve?"

"I only met him once," he said, not wanting her to know that the one time he'd met her former boyfriend had been the night Cleve had tried to kill her, him, and Willie. "Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Was he mean to you?"

"Was? He . . . still . . . is. I . . . don't . . . want . . . to . . . go . . . home . . . with . . . him," her voice trembled with fear.

"Maybe you won't have to. If he's in jail, maybe he'll be there for a long time and you can go home with Mike."

"He . . . won't . . . stay . . . in . . . jail. His . . . father . . . will . . . get . . . him . . . out. My . . . wrists?" She held her wrists out toward him as Terry began to feel uncomfortable. "When . . . did . . . I . . . do . . . this?"

"A long time ago. Maybe that's something that you should be talking about with Mike. Are you getting tired?"

"A . . . little."

"Then I'm going to let you get some rest. Can I come and visit you again?"

"You . . . have . . . pictures?" She asked as he nodded. "Bring . . . them . . . next . . . time."

She was asleep when Mike arrived back at the hospital later that afternoon. He quietly pulled up a chair and sat beside her, watching her sleep, as usual. He looked up when he heard a light tap on the door. "Mike, can we talk for a minute?" Paul stuck his head in the door.

"Sure," Mike got up and left the room. "Lt. Ryker said that he'd think about my proposal and get back to me."

"Well, if you get the green light from him, my bosses have given me two months. After that, hopefully she'll be at a point where she can go home with you to your apartment."

"I should know something from him soon," Mike said.

"Then I'll let you get back in there with her. If you hear from him, find me and let me know what he says. Like I said, I need to check out the house if the gives the okay."

"Okay, I'll find you."

When he re-entered the room, Jill was just waking up. She looked toward the door and smiled sleepily when she saw him. "Hi," she smiled.

"Hi, yourself," he smiled back.

"Your . . . friend . . . Terry . . . was . . . here."

"He was? Did you have a nice visit?"

"He . . . told . . . me . . . that . . . I . . . should . . . ask . . . you . . . about . . . these," she extended her wrists toward him. "When . . . did . . . I . . . do . . . this?"

"You know what? We'll talk about all of that when you're stronger," he said as he tried to evade her questions.

"No. I . . . feel . . . strong . . . now. Tell . . . me."

"Jill, trust me. I'll tell you everything. I just think that we should wait a little while. I promise that I'll answer all of your questions in time."

"Can . . . we . . . walk?"

"Yeah, we can walk," he lowered the bed railing and helped her with her robe and slippers. "Has Paul said when he's going to give you a walker?"

"Don't . . . want . . . one."

"Why?"

"For . . . old . . . people."

"Jill, they're not only for old people. It'll help you get around better."

"Don't . . . like . . . it."

"Then take it up with Paul."

They were walking the length of the hall when the elevator doors opened and Lt. Ryker stepped off and walked toward them. "Danko, you're just the person that I was looking for."

"Do . . . I . . . know . . . you?" Jill sized up the lieutenant as she felt a sense of déjà vu.

"I'm Lt. Ryker," he introduced himself as Jill appeared noncommittal. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

"You . . . and . . . me?"

"Yes. Is that all right with you?"

"I . . . guess," she looked at Mike, who gave her a nod letting her know that this strange man meant her no harm.

"Come on, I'll help you back to your room," he said as they turned around.

After he got her settled, he left her alone with Lt. Ryker. For a few minutes, they just stared at each other. "I understand that you remember my house," he finally broke the silence.

"I . . . thought . . . that . . . it . . . was . . . a dream."

"Would you like to stay there while you continue to get better?"

"I . . . just . . . don't . . . want . . . to . . . go . . . to . . . the . . . other . . . hospital. Any . . . place . . . is . . . better . . . than . . . that."

"Then young lady, I'll see what I can do," he said as he left the room, indicating that their meeting was over. Mike looked up when the lieutenant came out. "Danko, do you remember how to get to the cottage?"

"Yes sir, I think so."

"I'll write down the directions and you can take her therapist out there. Instruct Trap to make whatever modifications that she needs," Ryker instructed.

"Yes sir. Thank you," Mike smiled as he went back into her room. "You must've been a hit with Ryker. He's okayed the move to his house." Jill didn't say anything as she looked at him and took a deep breath. "What's wrong?"

"I . . . hate . . . being . . . confused!" She said angrily.

"I know," he sympathized as he lowered the rail and sat on the edge of her bed. He'd discovered that she liked it when he sat on her bed.

"No . . . you . . . don't!" She argued with him.

"You're right, I don't."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . remember . . . you," she said as tears began trickling down her cheeks. "I . . . mean . . . at . . . least . . . you're . . . nice . . . to me! Cleve . . . is . . . never . . . nice . . . to me!"

"Why isn't he ever nice to you?" He asked. This was a subject that he and Jill had never completely explored and now seemed like a perfect opportunity to get some questions answered.

"I . . . don't . . . know. He . . . hurts . . . me!" She wailed as tears continued running down her face.

"He's not going to hurt you anymore. I wish that I could make you believe that," he reached over and gently rubbed her back.

"How . . . did . . . we . . . meet?" She asked, wiping at her hands as Mike handed her a tissue. "Thank . . . you."

"You were working at your uncle's bar in Alabama."

"No," she shook her head. "I . . . haven't . . . been . . . in . . . Alabama . . . since . . . I . . . was . . . 14."

"Do you remember your uncle's bar in the bowling alley in Anniston?"

"Ray's? Yes . . . but . . . I . . . never . . . worked . . . there," she insisted.

"Then how do I know about it?"

"I . . . don't . . . know. I . . . really . . . worked . . . there?"

"Yes."

"Why . . . can't . . . I . . . remember?"

"You will. You're trying too hard. Right now just relax and work on walking again. Everything else will fall into place."

"You're . . . sure?"

"I'm positive," he smiled at her.

***MJMJMJ***

The next morning, Mike drove Paul out to Lt. Ryker's house on the lake so that the therapist could take a look at the house and the property. Trap and Mike stayed in the living room while Paul walked through the house. After several minutes, he returned to the living room. "Trap, you said that you have horses?"

"Yes."

"Can Jill ride?"

"She's been riding since she was a kid."

"Riding's great therapy for people with mobility problems," Paul explained. "I think this might work."

"Great!" Mike clapped his hands together.

"I'm going to take a look around outside."

"Mike, is she as bad as he's making it sound?" Trap asked.

"It was bad, at first, but she's getting better every day," Mike assured his wife's oldest friend.

"Is it all right if I go and visit her?"

"I don't know, Trap, She's so confused right now. She doesn't remember that Cleve's dead and for right now, we're playing along with her. I don't know what her reaction's going to be if she sees you," Mike said with a worried expression on his face.

"I won't upset her, Mike. I just want to see her."

"Don't say a word about Cleve, Trap. I mean it," Mike warned him.

***MJMJMJ***

Later that afternoon, Jill was lying in bed absently switching channels on the TV. She was bored out of her mind and she still had more than an hour to kill before Mike was due for his afternoon visit. She looked up when she heard a rap on her door. Her heart jumped into her throat when the door opened and part of her past entered. His hair was much shorter, but there was no mistaking that it was him. And if he was here, then she knew that Cleve couldn't be too far behind him.

"What . . . are . . . you . . . doing . . . here? Did . . . you . . . bring . . . Cleve . . . with . . . you?"

"Did I what? No, of course not. I mean, you're not the only person who's afraid of him."

"I . . . didn't . . . know . . . that."

"Jill, we talk about it all of the time. Never mind," he quickly stated as he saw the look of utter confusion crossing her face. "How're you feeling?"

"Confused. If . . . you're . . . here . . . where's . . . Cleve?"

"I haven't seen him in a while. Did Mike talk to you about the house?"

"How . . . do . . . you . . . know . . . about . . . the . . . house?"

He stopped to think. If he said the wrong thing, Mike had warned him that she was liable to freak out. He didn't want to be responsible if he freaked her out. Calming her down was something that he'd never been good at. He'd been more than happy to hand that chore over to Mike, who was wonderful at it. She was staring at him, patiently waiting for an answer to her question. "Mike told me that you were getting ready to be moved and he told me about the house."

"You . . . know . . . Mike?"

"Yeah, we've known each other for a long time. You introduced me to him."

"Mike . . . knows . . . Cleve?"

"He's met him, but they don't really know each other."

"Go . . . away!" She shouted in sudden fury as Trap wondered just what he'd said. She waved her hand toward the door.

"Excuse me?"

"Leave!"

He was going to say something further, but he thought better of it as he turned and left the room. She lay back in her bed, now totally confused. If Trap knew Mike and Mike knew Trap, then wouldn't that mean that Mike also knew Cleve? Her mind was beginning to feel like a jigsaw puzzle where none of the pieces fit together. She wanted answers, no more of this evasive game that she felt Mike had been playing lately.

An hour later, Mike got off of the elevator and walked toward Jill's room. His mood was the lightest it had been since before the accident. Paul had given the okay for her to move out to Lt. Ryker's house and had agreed to come with her, which was a huge load off of Mike's mind. He walked into her room to find her glaring at him, which was never a good sign, but lately was especially ominous. "What's going on?" He asked as he walked over and pulled his chair over. "Did Paul talk to you about the house?"

"Trap . . . was . . . here."

"He asked me if he could visit. He's been worried about you."

"Question."

"What's on your mind?"

"If . . . you . . . know . . . Trap . . . shouldn't . . . you . . . also . . . know . . . Cleve?"

"I only met Cleve twice and I don't think that we exchanged more than five words between us."

"Quit . . . playing . . . games," she accused him.

"Jill, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not playing games with you."

"My . . . wrists! I . . . want . . . to . . . know! Tell . . . me . . . Mike!"

"I don't know all of the details," he lied, because nothing was further from the truth. But, he knew she wasn't ready for why she'd slashed her wrists. "You did it to get away from Cleve. Trap took you to the hospital and then he took you back to Alabama. That's when we met."

"You . . . know . . . more. I . . . must've . . . told . . . you . . . something."

"Baby, listen to me. Right now, you don't need to know all of the gory details. Please believe me when I tell you that I'm not playing games with you. I just don't think that you're strong enough emotionally to bear everything just yet."

"You'll . . . tell . . . me?"

"I think that when you're strong enough, you'll remember everything on your own."

**A/N: Okay, so I lied. This chapter wasn't quite as long as the previous one. The next one's going to be a new chapter which will tie things in to the next chapter, which is where the long chapters will start once again.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimers: The characters are the property of Spelling/Goldberg Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from this story. The storyline is the property of the author.**

**Summary: Lt. Ryker's house is prepared for Jill's upcoming move as she continues to further explore her increasingly more confusing feelings for Mike. Paul gives Mike training on how to work with Jill.**

**A/N: This is a new chapter which fills in the gaps between the previous chapter and the next chapter. Originally, I jumped forward without giving much of an explanation of how things came about.**

**Also, something that I write about quite a bit in my stories is the constant hand holding between Mike and Jill. I'm going to explore that in this chapter.**

Chapter 9: Preparing for the Move

For the next week and a half, Mike made the long drive out to Lt. Ryker's every afternoon after he got off duty to help Trap with the improvements to the cottage. This left him with less time to spend with Jill, much to her surprising disappointment. She found herself complaining about this to her therapist one afternoon. "Mike's . . . never . . . here," she complained as Paul bit back a smile.

"I wasn't aware that was a problem. I thought that you didn't even like him," he reminded her.

"I . . . didn't . . . say . . . that."

"You're always worried about Cleve coming back. Isn't that why we're making the move out to the country?"

"You're . . . going?"

"Well yeah. You need a therapist. But, I'm also going to train Mike to work with you, too. It's a nice place. There are horses and lots of country."

"Why . . . do . . . I . . . remember . . . that . . . house . . . and . . . not . . . other . . . stuff?"

"I don't know. The brain is funny that way. How's the walking coming along?"

"Okay," she grimaced. "I . . . use . . . the . . . wall."

"The railings on the walls?" He looked at her as she nodded. "I understand that you don't want to use a walker."

"Mike . . . told . . . you?"

"Yes, he did. So, since we have some time before the move, I want to start teaching you to use something new. Curtis, bring her over to the bars."

When his assistant brought Jill over to the bars, Paul walked over to her with two metal crutches with rings that fit at her elbows. He measured them to her arms, adjusting and readjusting them until he got the correct fit for her body. "You walk with these the same way that you do when you're walking between the bars. But, your arms have to move before your legs. If you get it backwards, you're going to fall."

When Mike showed up shortly after seven that evening, he was surprised to find Jill in the hall, practicing with the crutches. "I see Paul gave you something new to play with," he smiled until he saw the large bruises on her arms and legs. "What happened to you?"

"I . . . fall," she shrugged as she continued walking, her face scrunched in concentration.

"Maybe he's moved you to crutches too soon."

"No," she shook her head. "He . . . said . . . this . . . is . . . better . . . for . . . the . . . house."

"Trap and I have been working hard getting things ready," he fell into step beside her, ready to help her if she took a tumble.

"He . . . can't . . . do . . . it . . . alone?" She complained.

"Do you mean to tell me that you actually miss me?" He couldn't help smiling.

"You . . . used . . . to . . . visit . . . twice . . . a . . . day. Now . . . it's . . . late . . . when . . . you're . . . here."

He felt guilty as he listened to her. He'd been working hard to work his way back into her heart and now it felt as if he was dialing it back. It made him wonder if maybe Trap could handle the improvements on his own. The lieutenant had already told him that he'd go out on the weekend to help him. In the past week, they'd accomplished quite a lot. Besides, Paul had said that he wanted to train him on how to do Jill's exercises since it had already been decided that the therapist would just be at the cottage from six in the morning until six in the evening after Mike returned home from work.

"I have tomorrow off," he told her. "I'll see if Paul will cut you a break tomorrow so that I can spend the day with you."

"Can . . . we . . . go . . . outside?"

"Yeah, we can go outside," he smiled. "Come on, let's go back to your room and we'll play cards until visiting hours are over."

As they played cards, Mike kept her amused with stories of different calls that he'd taken during his shift. "I . . . thought . . . being . . . a . . . cop . . . was . . . always . . . dangerous."

"One of the first things they told us in the academy that being a police officer is eight hours of boredom mixed in with five minutes of excitement. And, I've learned that's the truth. Everything is boring and routine until that one call comes through. Then it's balls to the wall," he said as she grinned.

"You . . . like . . . it?"

"I like it very much."

"Do . . . I?"

He sat back and thought about that before he answered her. "I don't completely understand what it's like to be the wife of a police officer. It's a different club than what me, Terry, and Willie belong to. At first, you didn't like it. You threatened to leave more times than I care to remember."

"Then . . . why . . . did . . . I . . . stay?"

"I think that you decided to just tough it out. It hasn't always been easy, but we've stuck through it together."

"I . . . was . . . told . . . cops . . . were . . . the . . . enemy."

"I know. Am I the enemy?"

"No," she looked down at the bed as she blushed.

He smiled, always thinking that she looked so damn cute when she blushed like that. He looked toward the intercom box above her door as the announcement was made that visiting hours were ending in five minutes. "That's my cue. I have to go before Nurse Ellis threatens to ban me again."

"They . . . won't . . . ban . . . you. They . . . like . . . you . . . remember?"

"Well, Nurse Ellis doesn't like me. Remember the last time?" He was referring to a night a few nights earlier when he'd stayed five minutes past the end of visiting hours. The older nurse had threatened to ban him for a week for the violation.

"I'll . . . just . . . start . . . crying. It . . . seems . . . to . . . work . . . with . . . everybody . . . else."

"It mainly just works with me," he smiled as he put the cards back into the box. "I'll be back in the morning and we'll spend the day together."

"Did . . . you . . . ask . . . Paul?"

"I'm going to do that now."

Paul was packing up to leave for the night when Mike found him. "How are the repairs coming along at the house?"

"Great. We've got the wooden rails up inside of the house and Trap's putting ramps on the porches to make it easier for Jill. Uh, I was wondering if she could have the day off tomorrow. I'm off and I'd like to spend the whole day with her."

"She made a comment earlier about missing you," he grinned. "In fact, she didn't mention that other guy at all. You might be getting her back."

"I don't know. Dr. Conti keeps telling me not to get my hopes up too quickly."

"Keep your heels dug in, Mike. Believe me, you're getting her back. When are we going to start your training?"

"How about tomorrow after visiting hours are over? I can work with you for a couple of hours."

"That sounds good. I really shouldn't give her the day off, but she's been working really hard, so I guess she deserves a break."

"Thanks, Paul."

***MJMJMJ***

The next morning when Mike arrived, he was carrying a small suitcase. "I thought that you might like to wear real clothes," he smiled as he put the case on the bed.

"It's . . . hard . . . for . . . me . . . to . . . dress," she complained.

"I'll get one of the nurses to help you," he offered. "Or I can help you."

"No," she shook her head defiantly. "Get . . . a . . . nurse."

Paul had told Mike that he was working with Jill on re-learning to dress herself, but her fingers on the right hand were still so clumsy that she quickly became frustrated with herself. And he knew that the reason she didn't want him helping her was she still wasn't comfortable enough with him for him to see her in a state of undress.

After he got a nurse to help her dress, they slowly made their way outside to the same spot they usually went. It was a breezy spring morning, but Jill could see clouds thickening on the horizon. "Rain," she commented as she kept an eye on the sky.

"Maybe, but I'll get you back inside before the storm," he watched her, as usual wondering why she was so fearful of storms.

"When . . . are . . . we . . . going . . . to . . . the . . . country?"

"Soon. We're still making the necessary repairs so that you can get around easily."

"Paul's . . . staying . . . with . . . me?"

"Just during the day."

"I . . . can't . . . stay . . . alone," her eyes widened in alarm.

"You're not going to be staying alone. Paul will be there during the day until I get home and then I'll be there. No one's leaving you by yourself," he repeated.

"Mike . . . I . . . I . . . can't . . . sleep . . . with you."

Mike noticed that on occasion she now said more than one word at a time. "Hey, listen. I know you're not ready to sleep with me. It's going to be okay."

He hated seeing how horribly confused and fearful that she still was. He had a meeting scheduled with Dr. Conti for later that evening. He made a mental note to ask him how he could help her move past the constant fear that she had. It seemed worse now than it was when he'd first met her. "It's . . . safe . . . there?"

"Yeah, it's very safe. He's not going to find you there."

She looked down at the bench that they were sitting on. His hand was resting on the bench between their bodies. She found herself wondering what it would be like to hold his hand. She wondered if Mike even liked holding hands. Cleve had never liked her touching him. He was the one who'd done all the touching, she remembered with an involuntary shudder at the memory.

Mike watched her as he wondered what she was thinking about. He noticed that she seemed to be studying his hand as if contemplating whether he'd accept her touch or not. He loved nothing more than holding hands with her. It had been that way from their very first lunch date. He gasped as he felt her hand tentatively touch his. He opened his hand and lightly curled his fingers around hers as she glanced up at him. "Terry's always joking that you and I have more ways to hold hands than anyone he's ever seen in his life."

"Really?" She gave him a genuine smile. "Cleve . . . didn't . . . like . . . me . . . touching . . . him."

"Well, I'm a very touchy guy," he grinned at her.

"I . . . take . . . it that . . . you . . . don't . . . mean . . . grumpy."

"No, I definitely meant touchy as in 'feely.'"

She was about to say something when they both heard thunder in the distance. "We'd . . . better . . . go . . . inside."

They made it back into the hospital just as the storm broke. He was about to ask her why storms scared her when she headed for the elevator. "Hey, I have an idea," he caught up with her just as she was about to crash to the floor. "Whoa! I've got you!"

She stiffened up in his arms as she tried to pull away from him. "I'm . . . okay. I . . . don't . . . need . . . help. What . . . was . . . your . . . idea?"

"Let's go to the cafeteria and get some ice cream."

"Strawberry?"

"Of course. Come on," he fell into step beside her as he let her set the pace.

As they ate ice cream, their conversation fell into a lighter pattern. She laughed as he told her story after story about Willie and Terry. "So anyway, we're sitting in the classroom listening to this _incredibly _boring lecture by our then Sgt. Ryker. I guess Willie and Terry were having their own discussing, because suddenly Ryker interrupts them."

"What . . . happened?" Her eyes were huge as she held onto his every word.

"He asks them if they wanted to share their conversation with the rest of the class since it seemed to be more interesting than what he was talking about. So, poor Willie stands up and asks him why our uniforms weren't blue."

"That . . . was . . . his . . . question?" She was incredulous.

"Yeah, but Ryker's answer was classic. He says in this booming voice 'The uniforms of a rookie are tan; the mouth of a rookie is _shut_.' Needless to say, it shut Willie and Terry up."

"Are . . . they . . . always . . . in . . . trouble . . . like . . . that?"

"No, not always. Willie's just a young kid and he has a tendency to say the first thing that comes into his head."

"Like . . . telling . . . me . . . that . . . you . . . were . . . a . . . cop?" She reminded him as he winced at the memory. "What . . . about . . . Terry?"

"Terry's serious. I think that's why we're such good friends. But, he likes to make these long-winded speeches. We tease him about it a lot."

"Mike?" He looked at her as she bit her lip. "Is . . . this . . . a . . . date?"

"Yeah, I guess it could be considered a date. It'd be a real date if we were having pizza."

"I . . . miss . . . pizza," she sighed wistfully as he laughed.

"I'll try to smuggle one in."

They had a wonderful day, but by seven thirty that night, Mike could tell that Jill was exhausted. After all, she was still getting her strength back. He summoned a nurse to help her into her gown that he'd brought her from home. She settled back against her pillows as she fingered the lace on the gown. She'd never had anything so pretty. "I . . . had . . . a . . . wonderful . . . time . . . today," she smiled sleepily.

"So did I. We'll have to do this again."

She didn't say anything as her eyes fluttered closed. He thought about placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, but decided that it was too soon. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered as he left the room. "I love you, baby."

Dr. Conti was in his office when Mike arrived. "Mike, please have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thanks. I'm going to go home to get some sleep."

"Paul was telling me that you spent today with Jill. How'd it go?"

"Pretty good, for the most part. There are times when she's still so scared. How can I help her move past that fear? I want her to trust me again."

"She's starting to trust you, Mike. If she wasn't, she wouldn't be willing to spend time with you. I think right now her brain is at war with itself. The old Jill is battling with the newer Jill that's still trying to emerge. Just keep doing what you're doing and I think that the new Jill will keep rising to the surface. Paul was telling me that the house should be ready in about a week."

"Yeah, the lieutenant said they should be finishing up this weekend. I'm going to go out on Sunday to help and to take our things out there."

"Then I'll have a talk with her before you take her out there."

After leaving Dr. Conti, Mike spent the next hour and a half with Paul as the therapist taught him everything that he needed to learn to take care of Jill in the evenings. "As I'm sure you've noticed, she won't let you help her. It'll make her more confident in dressing herself if you can keep things with buttons, zippers, and snaps to a minimum."

"Okay."

"She gets frustrated easily, so don't be surprised if she throws things at you. She's getting better every day, but her fine motor skills are still posing a problem."

"Yeah, I've noticed that."

"Your biggest challenge is going to be getting her in the pool. She still fights tooth and nail every day when we get in the water. I might let you work with her on that because I have a feeling that's a trust issue."

"Is there anything else?"

"Just be patient, not only with her but with yourself. There are times when she frustrates me so badly that I want to ram my head into the nearest wall. But when she has a victory," the therapist smiled, "it's so worth it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was walking the halls the next morning when Dr. Conti approached her. "I see that Paul has you practicing. How's it going?"

"I . . . want . . . to . . . stop . . . falling."

"Jill, you're going to get better. Give yourself time. Why don't we sit down and talk?"

"Is . . . something . . . wrong? Am . . . I . . . staying . . . here?"

"No, you're still going out to your friend's house. Please sit," he pointed to a battered sofa in the waiting area. "How's your memory coming?"

"It's . . . not."

"How do you feel about Mike?"

"He's . . . nice . . . to . . . me. I . . . want . . . to . . . remember . . . but . . . I can't."

"I didn't ask how he felt about you. How do _you _feel about him?"

Was he asking her if she loved him? She didn't know. She wasn't even sure what that emotion even entailed. Her mother hadn't really loved her. If she had, she wouldn't have chosen her new husband over her when she was five years old. She didn't even want to think about her father. Cleve had liked . . . doing unspeakable things to her, but that wasn't love, either. "I . . . don't know."

"Okay, I won't ask you anymore about your feeling about him," the doctor smiled. "Paul will bring you in to see me once a week once you make the move. We're going to work on getting you fully independent."

Jill couldn't help smiling as the doctor left. Fully independent sounded wonderful to her. And the house in the country definitely sounded better than being cooped up in this hospital all of the time. Maybe she could figure out how she felt about Mike out there. After all, they'd be together all of the time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimers: No, I don't own 'The Rookies.' If I did, I'd be making a hell of a lot more money than I'm making now.**

**Summary: Jill makes the move out to the country where things finally start moving in a positive direction with Mike.**

Chapter 10: Adjustments and Readjustments

It was a warm sunny day as Mike drove Jill out to the house in the country. Paul was following behind them in his own car so that the two of them could talk without feeling as if they were being spied on. Jill was thrilled about the move for two reasons. One was that she was finally able to leave the hospital and two; she could actually wear her own clothes and not a gown and robe every day.

The previous few weeks had been difficult ones for Jill. She'd made the transition from a walker, which she hated, to metal crutches. She still hadn't quite mastered the metal crutches. They required concentration, which she didn't always have. A misstep would send her crashing to the floor in a heap. Her arms and legs bore the testimony of how often she forgot to move correctly and ended up on the floor. Paul had taught Mike all of the exercises that he'd have to help Jill with at night before she went to bed. It had long before been agreed that the therapist would only be at the house from early in the morning until shortly after dinner. His leaving at the end of the day left her care up to Mike, but he wanted it that way in order to get her used to being around him again.

Jill's memory was still cloudy where Mike was concerned, although she was now starting to have strange dreams where he was in them. Only the dreams never made any sense. Lately, the dreams had been flashing on her when she was awake, leaving her more confused than ever. She'd find herself staring at the photographs in the album that he'd left her for hours, trying to force some kind of memories into the images in the pictures.

Mike glanced over at her as she watched the scenery passing by the window. "There's something that I need to tell you before we get to the cottage," he warned her as she looked at him. "I didn't tell you this before because I knew that it'd upset you. I guess that I was hoping that you'd start remembering things on your own."

"What?"

"Trap has been working as a handyman out at Lt. Ryker's for over a year now," he stole a glance at her.

"Why didn't . . . why didn't . . . you . . . tell me . . . this?" Words were beginning to form more easily for her, but she still stuttered a great deal of the time.

"I don't know. He won't be staying in the house. He has a small place on the property. He takes care of the horses and makes sure that the place doesn't get vandalized. He helped me and Paul with the repairs for your move."

"Any . . . other . . . surprises?"

He was surprised. She'd taken the news about Trap better than he'd thought she would. "No, that's it."

"Question."

"What's on your mind?"

"You say . . . that . . . we're married? Right?" She glanced at him as he nodded. "The pictures . . . say . . . that . . . too. Why . . . don't you . . . do . . . anything . . . to me?"

"What do you mean?" He asked as she began to blush. "Oh. Jill, think about it for a second. You don't remember me. Would it seem right to you?"

"I . . . don't . . . know. Cleve . . . wouldn't . . . have cared."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Cleve," he blew out his breath as he made the turn-off to Ryker's house.

"I'm sorry. I know . . . you . . . don't . . . like it . . . when . . . I . . . bring . . . him . . . up."

"When things start clicking in your mind about me and you, then we'll take the next step. Okay?" He glanced over at her as he parked the car under the carport and shut off the engine.

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"What if . . . what if . . . I . . . never . . . remember us?"

"Then we'll start over," he stated simply.

"I don't . . . understand," she frowned as Paul walked up to the car to help her out.

Mike walked into the house, followed by Paul and Jill. She smiled as she slowly made her way around the house, looking at the pictures above the fireplace. "Mary Kate," she whispered as Mike looked at Paul.

"How do you know her name?" Mike came and stood beside her.

"I don't know. It . . . just . . . came . . . to me. Strange," she shook her head as she continued looking around.

"Come on, I'll show you where you're going to sleep," he said as he took her arm to guide her down the short hallway.

"The first . . . door . . . on the . . . right," Mike's mind was boggled. How could she possibly remember every detail about a house that she'd spent a week in one time almost a year before, yet she couldn't remember that she was happily married to him? "Paul?" She called out from the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Her therapist called out as he came and stood in the doorway.

"Where . . . are . . . you . . . going . . . to sleep?"

"At home, in my own bed. Jill, we've talked about this a bunch of times. Don't you remember? I'll be here with you from six in the morning until after supper. You're going to be fine here with Mike. As far as I know, he doesn't bite," he smiled as he looked at Mike.

"Mike . . . where . . . are you . . . going . . . to sleep?"

"In the room right next door. I'll hear you if you need anything in the middle of the night."

"Who'll help . . . me with . . . my . . . shower?"

"Jill, it's going to be okay," Paul came into the room and stood next to her. "We brought everything that we need from the hospital. Mike can stand outside of the bathroom door in case you need anything."

"No!" She said in sudden fury. "He's . . . not . . . trained!"

"Jill, Mike and I have been working together. While you've been getting used to walking on those crutches, Mike has been learning how to help you with your exercises and anything else that you might need. You're going to be fine. Trust him," Paul urged her as they heard a knock on the door. "I'll go and get the door."

"Hey, it's going to be okay," he tried to tell her as he reached for her hand only to have her pull away from him.

She wasn't as sure. Change was terrifying to her. Change made everything in her world seem so topsy-turvy right now. It wasn't that she didn't trust Mike. He'd been wonderful the last several weeks and she'd come to depend on him far more than she wanted to. He was the only person who visited every day, often with treats or small gifts to let her know that he was thinking about her. On his days off, he'd come early in the morning and spend the entire day with her, not leaving until he was practically thrown out by whichever nurse was on duty. He was funny and sweet, but she wasn't sure just what it was that she was feeling for him.

To be told that he'd be responsible for her care in the evenings was a daunting prospect. She was especially terrified of him helping her to shower. Even though he'd told her that he knew about her scars, having him see them was something that she wasn't ready for. If she didn't wear anything with buttons, she could undress herself and he wouldn't have to see her naked. She smiled to herself, satisfied with the solution to her dilemma.

Paul re-entered the room with Trap, who was followed by a small mongrel dog. "Cute dog," she sat on the edge of the bed as the black and white spotted dog came over to greet her.

"Does Ryker let you bring animals into his house?" Mike asked as he sat beside Jill to pet the small, friendly dog.

"I wouldn't know. This is the first time I've ever let him come in with me," Trap answered. "Domino just came trotting up one day. He's a great watchdog. I just came to see if you needed anything."

"No, I think we're good," Mike told him.

"Trap . . . does . . . he . . . bite?"

"Domino? No, I don't think so," he said as Mike gave him a strange look. Trap noticed Jill's face cloud over as he realized what she was asking him. "Oh, you mean would he bite if someone showed up who wasn't supposed to be here? Yeah, I guess he probably would."

"Good," she seemed relieved by this bit of information.

"Holler if you need anything. Domino, come!" Trap called to the dog, who reluctantly left Jill and followed his master.

"Can we . . . go . . . outside? I want . . . to . . . look . . . around."

"Yeah, we can take a walk," he agreed as he went over and looped Jill's arm through his so that she wouldn't have to depend on the crutches. "Would you like to join us, Paul?"

"No, I'm going to go check out the kitchen and start dinner. You two have a nice walk," he said as Mike and Jill left the bedroom and started toward the front of the house.

"Let's stay on the walk. The ground is too rocky and uneven," Mike warned her as they followed the path around to the back of the house.

"Why do . . . I . . . remember . . . this . . . house?"

"I don't know. I guess it was just tucked in the back of your mind somewhere," he told her as they slowly walked toward the stable.

"Paul said . . . there . . . are horses. Can we . . . go . . . riding?"

"Yes, but not today. It's going to be dark in a couple of hours. Let me know if you start to get tired."

"I'm okay," she assured him as they entered the stable.

"Trap said that he keeps some carrots and apples in one of the bins," he said as he walked over and raised the lid on one of the wooden bins and found the produce. He placed some carrot slices in Jill's outstretched hand. "Close your hand up."

"I can't," she protested.

"Yes, you can. Paul wants you to start using your right hand more," he reminded her.

With her face set in concentration, she finally managed to close her fingers into a fist to hold onto the carrot slices as he led her over to one of the stalls where a brown mare with a white blaze on her face whinnied a greeting. "Hi, Dusty," she smiled as she fed the carrots to the horse.

"You remember her name?" He asked, puzzled once again at the tricks her memory was playing.

"It's written . . . there," she pointed to a board above the horses' stall.

"Now I feel really stupid," he grinned as she began to laugh. He had to laugh in return since it was so wonderful to hear her laugh again.

"You thought . . . that I . . . remembered . . . her and . . . not you? Don't you . . . think . . . that . . . I'd . . . rather . . . remember . . . you . . . than . . . some silly . . . horse?"

"I'd certainly hope so."

"Tomorrow . . . we'll . . . go riding?"

"If I get home from work while it's still light, we'll go riding. I promise," he took her arm once again. "But, I think that Paul's going to put you on horseback tomorrow as part of your therapy."

"What . . . time?"

"What time what? What time will I be home?" He asked as she nodded. "I'm not sure. Probably around five. Come on, let's go get ready for dinner."

Dinnertime gave Mike his first glimpse at how difficult things still were for his wife. She got into a major battle of wills with Paul when she kept insisting on using her stronger left hand to eat. Paul kept switching her fork from her left hand to her right, and she'd immediately switch back. "Jill, I'm going to tie your left hand to your side if you don't stop," Paul warned her.

"Excuse me, but is that really necessary?" Mike asked, his ire slowly rising at what he perceived to be the therapists' cruel treatment.

"Mike, we've talked about this," Paul reminded him as he once again switched Jill's fork from her left hand to her right. In anger, she hurled her fork across the room followed seconds later by her dinner plate, which hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. "Okay, I guess that dinner's over," he sighed as he got up.

Paul went into the pantry and came back with the broom and dustpan as Mike got up from the table and walked out of the back door toward the swimming pool area. "Am I . . . done?" Jill asked as she retrieved her crutches from beside her chair and pulled herself to her feet.

"Yeah, you're done. Jill, I'm cleaning up your mess _this _time. If you're going to insist on throwing dishes in the future, then you're going to be responsible for cleaning up the mess," Paul said as he threw the broken pieces into the trash. "Stay here for a minute."

Paul found Mike sitting by the pool, where he was still trying to get his emotions under control. "You shouldn't have threatened her," he said in a tight voice as he glared at the therapist.

"Mike, I wasn't threatening her. Listen to me," he pulled up a chair and sat next to him. "If you can't handle this, then maybe Jill would be better off at Rancho Mirage. If you really want to do this, you're going to have to suck it up and start being tough with her. There are times when you're going to have to be downright mean to her. She's made tremendous progress, but the battle is just beginning. You might need to ask yourself a tough question. Are you here as her husband or as her therapist?"

"Why can't I be both?"

"Right now you can't. When you do her leg and arm exercises with her in about an hour, she 's going to beg you to stop. She's going to complain that it hurts. And it does hurt. I'm aware of that. But you can't give in to her. If you give in to her, you're never going to get the old Jill back. When you take her into the pool, once again she's going to beg you to stay out of the deep end. You're going to have to close your ears to all of that. Believe me when I tell you that I want to give in every time I have a patient screaming that I'm hurting them. I don't do this because I enjoy torturing people. I do this so that they can be what they used to be. Like I just said, if you can't do this, then tomorrow we'll take her to Rancho Mirage and leave her in the care of people who can do this," he said as he got up.

"No, I can do this," Mike's voice was determined, his eyes even more so. "I have to be with her, Paul. I want you to understand that."

"I know. I'm going to go wash up and hit the road. Do you want me to help you get her ready for her exercises or can you handle it alone?"

"No, I'll do it."

"I'll see you in the morning then."

Mike was still sitting beside the dimly lit pool several minutes later when he heard the unmistakable sound of Jill's crutches on the flagstone patio. "Jill, please go back into the house. I'll be inside in just a few minutes," he called out as he got up and began walking toward the stable.

"Mike!" She called out to him as she struggled to catch up.

"Jill, please go back into the house!" He spoke more sternly than he'd intended. "It's dark out here! I don't want you falling and getting hurt!"

"Mike . . . why are . . . you . . . so angry?"

"Is Paul in the house?"

"Yes. He was . . . cleaning . . . up the . . . kitchen."

"Go inside and ask him to help you get ready for your exercises."

"I thought . . . that you . . . were . . . going to . . . help me."

He took a deep breath as he slowly turned around. His heart was breaking and there didn't seem to be a thing that he could do to stop the pain. "I need some time alone. Just for a little while. Go back inside and I'll be there in just a few minutes."

"Be . . . careful," she called out as he finally heard her footsteps going in the opposite direction.

***MJMJMJ***

Mike was standing at one of the stalls feeding apple slices to Ranger, one of the other horses when Trap happened by. "I didn't know anybody was out here. I just came in to check on the horses for the night."

"I just needed some air," he said as he rubbed the velvety nose of the huge horse.

"Rough night?"

"I've only been with Jill for a few hours a day, except on my days off. I knew that it was hard and I knew that she was struggling, but tonight was the first time I've really been hit in the face with it. I love her so much, but I don't know how to deal with this," his voice caught as he continued stroking the horse.

"I guess that you'll deal with it in the same way that you've dealt with everything else that's ever involved Jill. Slowly and one day at a time. I mean, do you really have a choice here?"

"No, I don't. She hasn't said too much lately about Cleve, but I'm not really sure what that means. Can I ask you a question?"

"What?" Trap asked as he sat down on a bale of hay.

"We talked about this briefly a long time ago, but I have to know something because Jill won't ever tell me. Was it always awful for her in that house?" He asked as he walked over and sat on another bale.

"Not at first," Trap remembered. "For the first year or so, he didn't hit her as often as he did later. But if he wasn't hitting her, he was ignoring her. I don't know which was worse. The nights . . . well, they were always bad, but you already know that."

"The scars, Trap. I want to know about the scars. I know that he knocked her into a swimming pool, but I want to know about the others."

"The day that he knocked her into the pool, she really should've gone to the ER and gotten stitched up. He wouldn't take her. The cuts were bad, Mike. They bled off and on for days and they took forever to heal. I was worried and scared, but if I'd defied him . . . god, I was such a fucking coward," he covered his face with his hands.

"You weren't a coward. You did the best that you could and you got her out of there when you needed to. I just don't understand how he could've done those things to her. I don't understand how he could've turned her life into a nightmare. I mean, are we even talking about the same woman?"

"She was different before you met her. As for why he did it, it's the way that he was raised. His father and grandfather were the same way. There are a lot of scars. I don't remember all of the beatings because they all kind of blended together after a while. I just remember her screaming at night. That'll never go away."

"She asked me today when we were driving out here why I haven't done anything to her yet," he remembered as he shook his head. "I just keep thinking about that night in the woods when I stopped that son of a bitch just short of putting a bullet into my wife's brain."

"Do you wish that you'd killed him instead of Eddie?"

"Oh, yeah," he admitted. "It would've been worth facing IAD. I've got to get back to the house. I'll talk to you later."

"Mike, if you ever want to talk, you know where I am. For what it's worth, there are some things I hope that she never remembers."

"Trap, she never forgot about the nights. That's why she's afraid of what I'm going to 'do' to her," he said, his eyes bright with tears. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Jill's oldest friend returned the greeting as he remained sitting in the barn long after Mike had left.

He remembered being 16 years old and hearing the awful sounds coming from that bedroom down the hall. Grunts, the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped, and worst of all, the sounds of Jill screaming and crying for Cleve to please stop hurting her. He remembered pounding on that door, asking if she was all right. Cleve's response had been for Trap to go back to his room and leave them the fuck alone.

There were times when he thought about calling his old man and having him come get him or at least send him bus fare to go back home. But, he knew that he couldn't leave Jill in that house of horrors alone. They'd been friends since they were seven and nine years old. He wasn't about to abandon her to whatever Cleve or his biker friends would do to her.

***MJMJMJ***

Paul was sitting in a chair in the living room when Mike walked in. "I thought that you were leaving," Mike reminded him as he walked into the house.

"You need to talk to Jill. She's really upset."

"She thinks that I'm mad at her."

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not mad. I'm frustrated. It's so hard seeing her like this," he sat down and rubbed his face.

"Then that's what you need to tell her. I have to go. I'll see you in the morning. An hour for exercises, Mike. Don't play loving hubby and let her con you into less."

He walked into the front bedroom after Paul had left and found Jill lying on her side on the bed, crying as if her heart was going to break. He noticed that she was wearing her shorts and t-shirt that she normally wore for her exercises, so at least Paul had helped her do that while he was outside feeling sorry for himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed as she rolled over toward him, her dark brown eyes full of sorrow. "I didn't mean to upset you," he apologized as she struggled to sit up.

"I thought . . . that you . . . were mad . . . at me."

"No, it's just not safe for you to walk around on the patio in the dark. Some of the stones are uneven. I even tripped on a couple of them."

"Are you . . . okay?" She was concerned as she sat up further.

"Yeah, I just popped my knee, but I'll be fine. Paul says that we're to work on your exercises for an hour and you're not to talk me into doing one minute less. Are you ready?"

She sat on the sofa as he put the mat on the floor. For the next hour, they did the various exercises on her weaker right side. As Paul had warned, she complained non-stop. But Mike was relentless. "Can we . . . please . . . stop?" She begged as she cried out in pain.

"Five more minutes," he said as he winced in pain himself. His right knee was hurting badly from tripping on the patio earlier. This knee had been giving him problems since he'd been hit by a car almost two years earlier. His doctor had told him that eventually he'd need surgery to correct the ongoing problems. But, with Jill in the condition that she was in, there was no time to worry about himself.

"You said . . . that . . . five . . . minutes ago," she fought for breath as she tried to wrestle her foot from Mike's firm grip.

"I promise that we'll stop in five minutes. Come on, push against me and we'll be done," he looked at her as she made a face. "I can see that you don't believe me."

"No you . . . went to . . . the Paul . . . Clay school . . . of torture."

"Does Paul ever tell you why he tortures you? Does he?" He repeated as she looked at him and shook her head. She'd never seen him so truly angry before. "Because once there was this beautiful young woman who was married to a police officer. She had a career as a nurse that she loved very much. One day while she was coming home from work, there was a horrible accident. That young woman didn't come off of that bus. Paul tortures you so that you will come back. Do you want things the way that they were?"

"That's . . . why you . . . you're . . . upset."

"Jill, I know that you're confused about so many things. I know that you don't understand why you think that Cleve abandoned you. That doesn't really matter. I know that you don't remember me. I don't like it, but right now there's not anything that I can do about it. But believe me when I do tell you that I love you and I'll do whatever I have to do to get you back to what you were before that awful afternoon."

"You said . . . today . . . that . . . we'll start . . . again?"

"If that's what I have to do to get you back, yes. You fell in love with me once before. I don't see any reason why I can't get you to fall in love with me again. Come on, I'll help you get undressed so that you can take a shower," he carefully lowered her right leg to the floor and helped her to her feet.

"I can . . . undress . . . myself. No . . . buttons," she smiled shyly.

"Okay, the shower chair is already in there and everything's in easy reach. There are bars on the shower wall. Call me if you need anything. I mean it," he looked at her as she nodded. After she got out of the shower, he helped her get settled into bed. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Now, there aren't any bars like at the hospital, but the bed's wide enough so that you shouldn't roll off of it. I'll be in the living room if you need anything. I'll leave the light on in the hall so that you can see your water glass," he said as he left the room.

She looked around the room after he left. The bed squeaked loudly every time she made the slightest movement. She lay there, wondering if her and Mike had ever slept in this bed. If they had, she hoped that his boss also hadn't been here when they were doing anything. The bed was so loud that it was embarrassing. Those were her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep.

Before going into the living room, Mike retrieved his knee brace from his room and wrapped it around his aching knee before popping a couple of aspirin. He then went into the living room and sat in an easy chair, propping his feet on an ottoman. There was no TV since Ryker only stayed in the house on the occasional weekend, so he made a mental note to bring their TV from home on his way home the next day.

A couple of hours later, Jill jolted awake with a start. She wasn't sure what had woke her up, just that for some reason it had frightened her. She noticed that the hall light was still on. She sat up and put her legs over the side of the bed before reaching for the metal crutches that were propped against the night stand. Walking into the hallway, she saw that there was also a light on in the living room, which meant that Mike was probably still awake.

Mike was reading when he heard Jill's crutches on the floor. He looked up to see her standing in the doorway looking at him. "Are you okay?"

"Your . . . knee?" She pointed to the brace on his knee.

"It's an old injury that I aggravated tonight," he explained.

"Football?"

"No, stock car," he made a reference to Lee Borden striking him while he had Jill as a hostage in a stolen stock car. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"No."

"Okay, I'm going to take a wild guess and say bad dream."

"I . . . don't know. Do . . . I have . . . a lot of . . . them?"

"Yeah."

"I scream?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

"A car . . . blew up."

"In your dream?"

"Yes, but . . . it . . . wasn't . . . like a . . . dream. It was . . . like . . . it was . . . happening."

"You may not be hungry, but I am. Follow me into the kitchen and we'll talk over peanut butter and jelly," he walked to the kitchen as she followed him.

He was deep in thought as he made his sandwich. When Jill had previously stayed in this house, someone had been trying to kill the lieutenant. While he'd been playing chess with the guys and Jill in attendance, the assassin had planted a bomb in his car. She had been in the car with Ryker when he saw the bomb. He'd yanked her from the car just as it exploded. Mike figured that everything tied in with her memories of this house. "You're . . . always . . . hungry," she commented as he was about to take a bite of his sandwich. "How did . . . I know . . . that?"

"Did Willie or Terry tell you?"

"No."

"Do any other flashes come to your mind?"

"I hear . . . songs . . . sometimes. But . . . they're songs . . . that I . . . don't know."

"I'll bring some tapes and a tape player with me tomorrow. Maybe if you hear the songs you'll recognize them. You still don't remember working at Ray's?"

"I keep . . . seeing a . . . trailer."

"You lived in the trailer while you worked at Ray's. It belonged to him and your aunt."

"I want . . . to . . . remember."

"You're starting to. The trailer and the music are a great start," he continued to eat his sandwich. He noticed that she was watching him intently, much as she would when they were first dating. It was as if she was trying to memorize every detail of his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do we . . . touch . . . a lot?"

"Like I told you the other day," he wiped his face with a napkin, "Terry is always saying that we have more ways of holding hands than anybody he's ever met in his life."

"I don't . . . like to . . . be touched," she reminded him.

"We used to talk about that. And it was something that we worked through."

"We touch . . . everywhere?" She looked horrified at the very idea.

"Yes. And we will again. But that can all wait. Right now, I think that we both need to get some sleep because Paul will be here at six sharp."

He lay awake for a long time, listening to see if she needed anything. He thought back to their conversation. The idea that they were intimate was as foreign to her as going to the moon. She'd been much the same way when they'd first starting dating. He smiled as he remembered the first time that he'd ever kissed her. He'd thought that she was going to jump out of his car. She was much the same way the first time they'd ever made love. Thinking about those early days, he fell asleep.

***MJMJMJ***

The next morning, Mike was fixing breakfast when Paul showed up. "How'd it go last night?" He asked as he walked into the kitchen and put his gym bag on a kitchen chair.

"She had some trouble sleeping, but I think it's because she's in a new environment," Mike replied as he set the table. "She's getting dressed. I have to get in the shower so that I can get to work."

He walked into her room before he went to get in the shower. "Is . . . Paul here?" She asked as she pulled her shoes on.

"He just got here," he bent down and tied her shoes. "I have to get in the shower, and then I have to head to work. I'll see you this afternoon and we'll go for a horseback ride. Try not to give Paul too much trouble."

"No more . . . than . . . usual," she grinned as he rolled his eyes. "Mike?"

"Yeah?" He turned from the doorway.

"You can . . . kiss me . . . bye . . . if you . . . want," she smiled shyly.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he walked over and lightly kissed her on the forehead before leaving to take his shower, unable to hide the huge smile on his face as he walked into the bathroom.

Paul worked with her all morning, finally releasing her after lunch. Unlike Mike, Paul wasn't aware of her wandering nature. She took off to explore with the dog at her heels. He didn't become concerned until she'd been gone for over an hour. He walked to the stable, fully expecting to find her visiting with Trap or playing with the dog. He found the caretaker cleaning out the stalls when he walked in. "Have you seen Jill?" He asked when he saw that Jill was nowhere to be seen.

"She took a walk. Don't worry, Domino's with her," Trap told the therapist, as if that made all the difference in the world.

"What if she's lost?"

"You worry too much," Trap scoffed.

"And you're not worrying enough," Paul argued. "What if she's fallen somewhere out there? I'm sure that Mike's told you about the bruises on her arms and legs. She falls a dozen times a day."

"Paul, relax. If Jill gets hurt, Domino will let us know," Trap went back to his chores.

"Are there snakes out there or will Domino protect her from them, too?" Paul asked sarcastically.

"You've obviously never owned a great dog."

***MJMJMJ***

Jill had struggled to walk into the nearby foothills, followed closely by the dog. She stopped in front of a huge oak tree in the middle of a field. The grass around the tree was green and soft. She sat down heavily and with a grateful sigh as the dog flopped down beside her. "Nice tree," she whispered as she yawned sleepily and lay down under the shade tree.

Paul was on the verge of pulling his hair out by the time Mike walked into the house shortly after five that afternoon. Jill had been missing for more than three hours and he'd run out of places to look. "What's wrong?" Mike asked when he saw Paul's agitated state.

"I gave Jill the afternoon off. She went for a walk after lunch and I haven't seen her since. I looked for her, but I came back here in case she came back on her own. When I asked Trap about her, he didn't seem that concerned since the dog is with her. Who the hell does he think that dog is? Lassie?" Paul was now pacing the floor.

"Paul, she can barely walk. How far could she possibly have gone? Relax, I'll saddle up one of the horses and go look for her," Mike left the house and strode toward the stable.

Moments later, he had Ranger saddled and went looking for Jill and the small dog. "Jill!" He called every few minutes as he rode. "Jill! Domino!" He kept calling and whistling as he rode into the foothills. After riding for several minutes, he heard a dog barking. He kicked his heels into the horses' flanks as he rode forward. He was greeted by Domino, who led him over to where Jill was just waking up in the grass. "Jill, are you okay?" He jumped off of the horse and ran over to her. "Paul's worried sick about you. Did you fall?"

"No," she answered as she stared at him in confusion, unsure of why he was making such a fuss. ""I fell . . . asleep. Isn't this . . . a great . . . tree?"

"Yeah, it's okay. Come on, Paul's about to call out the FBI," he helped her to her feet and onto the back of the horse.

"I thought . . . we were . . . going to . . . go riding," she reminded him as he took the reins and began walking back to the house as he led the horse.

"Don't you think you've had enough adventure for one day?"

"Do we . . . have . . . to go . . . right back?"

"Where would milady like to go?" He smiled up at her.

There it was again. That flash of something familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. She remembered several weeks before when she'd had that first flash. That time Mike had said something about a carriage. "Aren't . . . you going . . . to ride? What . . . about . . . your knee?"

"I'll be okay. Here, take these," he handed up her crutches as he once again took the reins.

"Mike . . . what if . . . I fall?" She asked as her face went white with fear.

He took a deep breath as he pondered the dilemma he was facing. As much as he understood her fear, he wasn't sure how his body would react to being in such close proximity to her. But he also knew that for the past five years, he'd always been there when she'd found herself afraid. He made a mental note to keep his hormones under control as he climbed up behind her on the horse. Wrapping one arm tightly around her waist, he took the reins in his hands as they began the slow ride back to the house.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimers: I don't own the show and I never will.**

**Summary: Jill's emotions continue to trouble her as she contemplates how she truly feels about this stranger who claims to be her husband.**

**A/N: Things do start taking a step in the right direction with this chapter. **

Chapter 11: Storms and Returning Memories

When they reached the stable, Mike dismounted from the horse before helping her down. Trap walked in as Mike was removing the saddle and blanket from Ranger. "I'll take care of the horse. You'd better go and let Paul know that you're back before he calls out the National Guard," Trap called out as he walked over and took the horses' reins. "Where'd you find her?"

"Under a tree up in the hills," Mike answered as he walked over and helped her to her feet. "Come on, let's go tell him that you're back."

"No."

"Jill, come on. He was worried about you."

"Then . . . you go. I'm . . . going to . . . go . . . feed the . . . ducks," she announced stubbornly as she held her head up and hobbled out of the stable.

"I don't think she likes Paul very much," Trap observed as he groomed the horse.

"Well she's stuck with him. I can't do this alone. At least, not yet," he said as he left the stable and headed to the house.

Paul was leafing nervously through a magazine when Mike opened the front door and walked in. "Please tell me that you found her and she's not covered in snake bites."

"She's perfectly all right," Mike smiled, amused by the therapist's worrying.

"Where is she now? She needs to get ready to go into the pool before it gets dark."

"She's down at the dock feeding the ducks. Let me change my clothes and I'll take her to the pool. I think you've had more than enough for one day. I was thinking. I have tomorrow off. Why don't you take the day off and I'll handle Jill?"

"Does this mean that you're also going to give her the day off? After the stunt that she pulled today, do you really think she deserves a day off?" Paul pointed out angrily.

"I should've told you that she likes to wander around. That was my fault and I apologize. Lt. Ryker told me that when she was here before she'd walk around for hours at a time. It's just something that she does."

"You weren't staying out here with her?"

"I couldn't. Someone was trying to kill Ryker and it wasn't safe to have a bunch of cops hanging around."

"Well, she was able to get around on two perfectly good legs. I'm upset about today, Mike. I don't see how all of you can take this so lightly. She falls at least a dozen times a day. You've seen the bruises. She could've gotten seriously hurt out there and none of would've known how to find her."

"You're right and again, I'm sorry. I'll make sure that it doesn't happen again. Let me change so that I can get her into the pool."

"You know that she's going to fight you," Paul reminded him. "Can I ask you what in the hell that guy did to her to make her so fearful of deep water?"

"He hit her with a huge stick and knocked her unconscious into the deep end of the pool. If Trap hadn't been there, she would've drowned. The first time I ever went swimming with her, she also accused me of trying to drown her. That's when she told me."

"The guy sounds like a real winner," Paul sighed. "Are you sure that you can handle her by yourself all day?"

"Yeah."

"I want her to do her morning exercises and I want her in the pool sometime tomorrow. Other than that, the day is yours to do as you please."

"Thanks, Paul."

Jill was sitting on the edge of the dock with her legs dangling toward the water when Mike came over and sat down next to her. "Bread?" She offered him some of the dried bread that she was holding out for the ducks, who were delightedly yanking the pieces out of her hand.

"No thanks."

"Was he . . . really mad?"

"He wasn't happy," Mike sighed. "Promise me that you won't go wandering off like that again. Trap and I didn't take it very seriously because we know you and we know that you like to wander. But Paul pointed out that you could've gotten hurt out there. You could've fallen or gotten bitten by a snake. It's just too risky. Stay close to the house until I get home, and then I'll go walking with you wherever you want to go."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, no harm done. But I do have some bad news," he announced as she stopped feeding the ducks to look expectantly at him. "Paul wants you to get in the pool for your exercises before it gets dark."

She then noticed the way that Mike was dressed. "You're . . . taking me?" She asked, noticing his attire.

"I told Paul that I would. Come on, let's get your clothes changed," he stood up and held his hand out to her.

Looking at his outstretched hand, she had another flash of déjà vu, similar to the night before. "Wait."

"Jill, come on. It's going to be dark soon and the pool gets cold enough as it is," he took her hand and gently helped her to her feet.

Pulling her up against his chest, she stared into his eyes wondering if he was going to kiss her. For the first time that she could remember, she found herself wishing that he would. His eyes were brilliant. She felt as if she could easily get lost in his gaze. "For . . . how long?" She asked as she quickly broke the spell.

"How long do you usually stay in with Paul? Don't lie, because I can check with him," he smiled as she started laughing. He couldn't get over how wonderful it was to hear her laugh again.

"Half . . . an hour."

"Then half an hour it is. I have the day off tomorrow, and I gave Paul the day off, as well. He wants you to exercise in the morning and to do your pool exercises sometime tomorrow, but other than that, the day is ours," he told he as they walked toward the house.

"Just us?

"Are you okay with that?"

"Oh yeah," she smiled as they entered the house. "I'll be . . . back . . . in a . . . few . . . minutes." She changed into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before going out to the pool with Mike. The water was cold and it took both of their breaths away as they made their way toward the far end. "Slow . . . down."

"You're okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he promises as they make their way to the wall in the six-foot section of the pool.

For the next half hour, Jill worked on strengthening her weaker right side, complaining about the cold water the entire time. "Can we . . . please . . . get . . . out?"

"In a few more minutes," he said as he started swimming laps.

"Can Willie . . . and . . . Terry . . . come . . . over?"

He smiled, thinking that she sounded like a child asking if her friends could come over to play. "If you finish your exercises without complaining any more, I'll call them after dinner and let you talk to them."

"Mike!"

"Jill, stop! The time that you're wasting complaining about how cold you are could be spent finishing up."

"You're mad?"

He stopped swimming and looked at her. Her brown eyes were brimming with tears. He sighed, feeling like a total ass. He was well aware of how scared she was of deep water, yet here he was, forcing her to do something that terrified her. He swam over to her. "I'm not mad. Come on, let's get you out and inside to warm up."

After supper, as promised, Mike put in a call to the guys, who were thrilled to talk to Jill. They told her that they couldn't come out to visit the next day, but they made plans for the coming weekend. The three guys made plans to barbecue, much to Jill's delight.

"So how's she doing?" Terry asked Mike after he'd finished talking to Jill.

"Better. She wandered off today which didn't thrill Paul too much. I think that she just got restless. But her speech and mobility are improving."

"That's great. Hey, right after you left this afternoon, Ryker got a call from the D.A. They said that Cummings trial is scheduled to start in a couple of weeks."

"I already talked to the D.A. He wants Jill to testify."

"Are you kidding? Did you explain to him that she has no memory of what happened?"

"Yeah, of course I explained all of that," Mike explained patiently. "But he wants some of the victims to testify. I guess he thinks that it'll make an impact on the jury."

He talked to Terry for a few more minutes before hanging up. Paul came out a few minutes later with his gym bag. "I guess I'll see you in a couple of days," he said as he walked to the door.

"Thanks, Paul."

"Jill's on the back patio. I think that she's exhausted, as well she should be after her trek this afternoon."

"Goodnight, Paul," Mike said pointedly as he closed and locked the door behind the therapist.

He then went out on the back patio where he found his wife sitting with her feet propped up on one of the empty patio chairs. He lifted her feet and sat down before placing her feet in his lap. "What're . . . you doing?"

"Sitting here," he replied innocently. "Do you want me to move?"

She looked at him, realizing that he was leaving the decision up to her. She didn't understand what was happening, only that it seemed to be happening too fast. She found herself feeling strange now when she was around him. At first, in the hospital, she'd considered him a friend; someone that she could depend on. She just didn't understand the way that she was feeling around him now. She knew that she'd never felt this way about Cleve, or anybody else, for that matter. She found herself wondering how soon he'd want to take that next step. Because that next step scared the hell out of her. "No . . . you're . . . okay," she finally answered, wondering if she sounded as out of breath as she suddenly felt.

"Paul thinks that you're probably tired after your long walk this afternoon," he suggested as he gently began to rub her feet, something that he'd often done for her before after she was on her feet all day at the hospital. He watched her reaction as he touched her. She briefly flinched at the intimate touch, but she didn't pull away.

"Can we . . . go . . . back . . . to that . . . tree . . . tomorrow?"

"We can take a picnic lunch out there if you want to," he agreed as he watched her face. "Jill? What's wrong? Did I say something?"

"Picnic?" She frowned as she tried to remember. Someone had told her a story once about a picnic under a tree.

"Jill?" He tried to break through to her.

"A picnic . . . sounds nice," she finally smiled.

"Were you remembering something? You looked like you were a thousand miles away," he commented as he continued massaging her feet.

"I'm not . . . sure. I think . . . I am . . . tired," she announced as she pulled her feet from his lap.

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was asleep several hours later when the nightmare started. She was in a dark cellar while thunder crashed and lightning flashed. Suddenly the cellar began to fill up with water. It poured down the earthen walls, quickly filling the small room. She held her breath as long as she could, but the water kept rising. She screamed and screamed for someone to please open the door and let her out, but the only sound she heard was Cleve's sadistic laughter.

"No! Let me out! Cleve! Open the door! Let me out! Somebody please! Let me out!"

In the room next door, Mike was sound asleep when he heard the all too familiar sound of Jill crying out in terror. She was screaming for somebody to please let her out. He also noticed that she wasn't stuttering as she screamed for help. He didn't know what she wanted to be let out of, but he jumped out of bed and pulled his robe on before running into her room. She was sitting straight up in bed, crying out and throwing punches at the air with her fists as she continued screaming for help. He ran over to the bed and gently touched her on the shoulder to wake her up. "Jill, wake up," he whispered. "You're dreaming. Come on, baby. Wake up."

She awoke with a start when she heard the thunder in the distance. "Storm," she whispered as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Yeah, but I think it's going to bypass us," he sat on the edge of the bed. "It keeps getting further away. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

"Cellar. Water . . . was . . . coming in. I screamed . . . but . . . nobody . . . came."

"It's okay. It was just a dream," he consoled her as she began to cry. "Jill, it's okay. You're safe now. It was just a bad dream."

"No," she shook her head. "That . . . happened," she insisted through her tears.

"In your dream, baby. You're not dreaming now," he continued soothing her as he brushed her hair from her forehead.

"No you . . . don't . . . understand. Before I . . . left . . . with Cleve . . . he locked . . . me in the . . . cellar. Trick. The cellar . . . leaked. It was . . . raining . . . and the . . . water . . . began . . . coming in. It . . . flooded . . . once . . . when I . . . was small. I thought . . . it was . . . going to . . . flood . . . again."

Everything made perfect sense now. The old Jill had been unable to voice her fear of thunderstorms. The new Jill didn't have that fear. She had the ability to tell him what her fears were. "How long were you down there?" He asked as he continued stroking her hair.

"I don't . . . know. I pounded . . . on the . . . door . . . until . . . my hands . . . were . . . bloody. He . . . finally . . . let me . . . out. He . . . called . . . me a . . . baby! I was . . . so afraid!" She sobbed as he pulled her to his chest and gently rubbed her back.

"Baby, I'm so sorry," he sympathized as he continued rubbing her back. "But you're safe now."

She felt herself relaxing in his arms as he rubbed circles on her back. Breathing in the scent of him, she had another flash of memory. But as with the others, this one also made no sense. The warmth of him and the sound of his heart beating reassuringly in her ear made her feel secure for what seemed to be the first time. "Mike? Can you . . . stay . . . here?"

"You want me to stay here with you?" He repeated her request in case he'd misunderstood it the first time.

"Please?" She murmured sleepily as she tightened her grip on his robe to keep him from leaving.

"In that case, yes, I can stay," he slipped off his robe and got under the covers, pulling her into his arms as she quickly fell asleep. He lay awake for a long time, just holding her and watching her sleep. He smiled as he relaxed and fell asleep himself.

When he woke up the next morning he was surprised to find that Jill had actually stayed in his arms all night, something that rarely happened, but had been more frequent since the restaurant shooting. As quietly as he could, he untangled his arms and legs from hers before taking a shower and going to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

Jill awoke half an hour later to the smell of bacon frying. She wasn't sure why she was disappointed to find herself alone. She was about to lean over the side of the bed for her crutches when Mike came into the bedroom. "Are you hungry?" He asked as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Where . . . are my . . . crutches?"

"You won't need them today because you're going to be with me. Now, are you hungry? I've made bacon, eggs, toast, and orange juice. Do you want to eat in the kitchen or would you like breakfast in bed?" He teased.

"No, I'll . . . get up."

"If you want to take a shower, I'll help you into the bathroom and help you get dressed when you're done," he offered as she violently shook his head. "Jill, it's okay. I think that I can control myself."

"Too . . . fast," she insisted.

"What're you talking about? What's too fast?"

"You . . . and . . . me."

"Listen," he took her hand. "Helping you take a shower doesn't mean that I'm going to carry you back in here and make mad passionate love to you afterwards. I'm following your lead just like I did before."

"I'm so . . . confused! What if . . . what if . . . if . . . he finds . . . me?"

He sighed. She hadn't worried about Cleve showing up in several days. He'd hoped against hope that she'd forgotten the whole silly notion of his suddenly showing up and hurting her. Apparently he'd been wrong. "We're going to talk about Cleve later. Remember when we talked about things that you weren't ready to handle?" He reminded her as she nodded. "I think that you can handle some of those things now. We'll talk tonight. Come on, I'll help you with your shower and then we can eat. We have a long day ahead of us."

She managed to let Mike help her shower with a minimum of embarrassment. She knew that he'd seen her naked many times in the past. After all, they were supposedly married, weren't they? After helping her dress, he led her to the kitchen where they both sat down to eat. He was pleased to see that she was at least using her weaker right hand this morning. He really wasn't in the mood to clean up broken dishes. But after a while, he noticed that her hand started trembling badly, causing the fork to shake. She dropped her fork to her plate and looked at Mike. "I . . . can't . . . do this," she said as her voice started shaking.

"It's okay. Take a break and pick your fork up in a few minutes. Why don't you eat some toast or bacon instead?" He suggested.

"Not . . . hungry," she sighed as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

"Come on, baby. You have to eat something," he encouraged her as he put his hand over her left hand. "Just take your time. We're not in any hurry."

She took a deep breath as she once again picked up her fork and took a few more bites before putting her fork down for good. "Enough," she pushed her plate away.

"Okay," he got up and began to clear the table. "So what do you want to do first this morning?"

"Horseback . . . riding."

"That sounds good to me. Do you think that you can handle Dusty?" He asked as he began to wash dishes.

"Yeah. Can we . . . ride out . . . to the . . . tree?"

"Sure. I'll pack some fruit and something to drink to take with us. Can I ask you a question?" He asked as she nodded. "What's so special about that tree?"

"I . . . don't . . . know. Don't you . . . think . . . it's pretty?"

"I guess so, as far as trees go."

After cleaning the kitchen, he found a picnic basket and filled it with different kinds of fruit and before filling a thermos of iced tea. They then went out into the stable where he saddled up two of the horses before helping Jill onto Dusty's back. They then set out for the foothills, Mike in front leading Dusty by the reins. Jill's legs and hands were shaking by the time they reached the tree. She almost fell to the ground when he helped her from the horse and set her on the ground. "Can we . . . sit?" She begged as she clutched desperately at his shirt.

"Hold onto Dusty for just a minute while I spread a blanket out," he told her as he placed her hands onto the horses' bridle for support. After spreading a plaid blanket on the soft grass, he helped her walk over and sit down. "It's nice out here," he smiled as he looked around.

"Don't you . . . think . . . its . . . strange . . . that this . . . tree . . . is by . . . itself . . . in the . . . middle . . . of nowhere?"

"Not really. Maybe it's special to Lt. Ryker. You can ask him about it the next time he comes out."

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you . . . going to . . . stay . . . tonight?"

"In your room?" He clarified as she nodded. "Do you want me to stay?"

"What if . . . something . . . happens?"

"Like I told you this morning, I'm following your lead. If you just want to sleep, then that's what we'll do. If you want something further, then we'll see what happens."

"I'm . . . nervous."

"I know. Believe it or not, so am I."

"I want . . . to know . . . what happened."

"You want to know how you got hurt? A delivery truck hit the bus that you were riding on. The driver was drunk. He's scheduled to go on trial pretty soon." He knew that he'd told her more than once about the accident, but her memory problems wouldn't allow her to process it.

"Did . . . anybody . . . die?"

"Yeah, several people died. A lot more people got hurt. At first I wasn't sure if you were going to live or die. I was scared that I was going to lose you. I didn't like that feeling."

"You've . . . had that . . . feeling . . . before?"

"Once before. I didn't like it that time, either. Willie was the one who found you under a bunch of collapsed seats. He said that he thought that you were dead."

She sat across from him, deep in thought as she absorbed what he'd just told her. She hated not being able to remember. She looked down at the third finger of his left hand at his wedding ring and tried to remember what her own wedding ring looked like. Did her ring match his? Did she have an engagement ring? If so, did she still wear it? Her mind was such a whirl of confusion. "I want . . . to go to . . . sleep . . . one night . . . and . . . wake up . . . remembering . . . everything. Does . . . that only . . . happen in . . . movies?" She asked as she reached for his hand.

He was surprised when she reached for his hand. It was rare that she willingly reached out to him on her own. "I asked Dr. Conti about that. He said that nobody knows. He said that some people do get their memories back like they do in the movies. He said that others never remember anything and that some people are somewhere in the middle."

"Does my . . . ring . . . look like . . . yours?" She traced the gold band with her fingertips.

"It's thinner, but it was part of a matched set. Jill, do you want your rings back?" He asked, taking her left hand in his as he felt his heart soar.

"You . . . have . . . them?"

"They're at the house. I was really hoping that you'd finally ask me for them," he smiled as he drew her close and kissed her.

The feel of his lips against hers was a strange sensation, but Jill decided after a few seconds that she liked the sensation. She pulled him closer as she returned the kiss. Her heart was pounding in her chest when she finally pulled away from him. "I . . . can't breathe," she moved away, feeling flushed and breathless.

"The first movie that we ever saw together was 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,'" he remembered as he sat back against the trunk of the tree as he continued to hold her. "You had this 'thing' for Paul Newman. We saw that movie four times."

"Was that . . . our . . . first . . . make-out . . . movie?" She asked as she blushed.

"Yeah, that was our first make-out movie," he brushed her hair off of her shoulders. "Do you remember?"

She watched him, trying to think. She could vaguely see Paul Newman and Robert Redford, but the details were fuzzy. It would make sense that they'd make out since that's what most dating couples did at the movies. She tried to remember other things, but nothing made any sense. "I wasn't . . . afraid . . . of you?"

"A little, but you didn't like me at first. You thought that I wanted to know too much about you. You beat me at pool one time. Do you remember that?"

"No. Are you . . . going to . . . tell me . . . about Cleve?"

"Are you sure that you're ready to hear it?" She nodded against his shoulder. "Five months ago he showed up. I had to go out of town and he somehow managed to ingratiate himself back into your life. We didn't know until later was he had been in a mental institution. He took you out to this house in the country. Jill, he was going to kill you."

She had a flash of lights and foggy trees. Like with her other flashes, nothing made the least bit of sense. "How did . . . you . . . find me?"

"He was getting ready to shoot you in the back of the head when Lt. Ryker and I arrived on the scene. He pulled a gun on us, so Lt. Ryker was forced to shoot and kill him."

"He's . . . really . . . dead?" She was still afraid to believe it.

"He's really dead, Jill," he confirmed. "He can't hurt you anymore. I can bring you a copy of the newspaper article if you want me to."

"Were . . . Willie and . . . Terry there?" She looked at him as he nodded. "I see . . . them . . . in flashes."

He held her close as she started to sob. "Baby, it's okay," he held her close to him as she cried. "Don't cry."

"How'd . . . you find . . . me?" She repeated.

"It's a long story. Willie and Terry put two and two together and found the house that he'd bought. They were pissed off for a long time. In fact, until you had the accident, they were still pissed off."

"Why?"

"The only people who know about your past with Cleve are me and Trap. You're adamant about them not knowing. The morning that I left, I asked them to look out for you, but I didn't tell them why."

"I told . . . you . . . about him?" She asked as she began crying harder.

He didn't say anything as he continued holding her. She'd had much the same reaction when she'd originally told him about the abuse that she'd suffered at her so-called boyfriends' hands. Neither of them spoke for several minutes which led him to think that maybe she'd fallen asleep. "Are you asleep?" He whispered into her hair.

"Yes," she teased as she cuddled closer to him.

"Are you hungry or thirsty? I brought some fruit and iced tea."

"No. I'm . . . good," she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself even tighter into him, reminding him more than ever of the old Jill, who loved nothing more than to cuddle as close as she could get to Mike.

He'd sorely missed holding her in his arms as he was doing now. He sat there quietly, watching the horses graze in the grass nearby. He had to agree with Jill. This tree was wonderful. He could see why she enjoyed it so much the day before. He closed his eyes, intending to just rest his eyes. He didn't even realize that he'd fallen asleep until he woke up to find Jill watching him, her dark brown eyes burning through him. "I fell asleep," he smiled as he rubbed his eyes. He instantly saw her stiffen up as if she'd just been slapped. "What's wrong?"

"I . . . don't . . . know," she said as another flash went through her mind. She knew that she'd heard Mike say that exact same thing before in another context. The remembrance sent a shiver of fear through her.

"Let's go back to the house. I'm supposed to get you into the pool this afternoon," he got up and helped her to her feet and back onto her horse.

That evening, she was sitting in the living room reading, with her feet propped up as Mike cleaned up the dinner dishes. She looked up when he came into the room and knelt down beside her chair as he took her left hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he smiled as he slipped her rings back onto her finger. "I thought that you might like to have these back."

"Thank you," she breathed as she kissed him as she held her hand out to admire her wedding and engagement rings. As he'd told her, her wedding ring was a thinner version of his own ring, while her engagement ring had a small diamond in the center of it.

"I'm sorry that it wasn't a bigger diamond, but I was a soldier, not Richard Burton," he grinned.

"I don't . . . care. They're . . . beautiful . . . rings," she kissed him again.

Later that night, they were lying in bed listening to the night sounds outside of the window. Occasionally, they heard Domino barking in the distance. "Are there . . . wild . . . animals . . . out there?" She asked as she heard the dog bark again.

"There might be coyotes and maybe an occasional mountain lion. Nothing major," he murmured sleepily as he felt her sit up.

"Mike, they . . . could . . . eat . . . Domino!"

"Jill, they don't come down this far. Domino's fine," he pulled her back down to his side.

As she tried to relax at his side, she started examining her wrist. Although she couldn't see the thin white scar, she knew that it was there. She still couldn't remember how she'd gotten the scar, but the scar wasn't what she was thinking of at the moment. She felt as if something else was missing, but she wasn't sure of what that something was.

She closed her eyes and forced herself to remember. Jewelry. Before Mike had begun to insist that they were married, the only piece of jewelry that Jill ever wore was a pinky ring that had been given to her by one of her aunts. Living in the house with Cleve, she'd never worn a watch. In that house, it never mattered what time it was or even what day of the week it was. Time in the house passed without notice.

Mike lay beside Jill, wide awake since the comment about the wild animals. He glanced over at her, wondering what she was thinking about. It was difficult to lie beside her and not touch her in an intimate way as he was used to doing. But she'd asked him to stay with her and he'd never had the heart to deny her anything. It had always been that way and probably always would be. He found himself wondering about the flashes that she was not getting on a regular basis. One of them had obviously upset her judging by her reaction that afternoon. He didn't even remember what he'd said; only that it had disturbed her. "What're you thinking about?" He asked, breaking the silence in the darkened bedroom.

"I feel . . . like . . . I'm missing . . . something," she continued examining her wrist.

He didn't say anything, but he smiled victoriously to himself in the darkness. Her bracelet. The first thing that he'd ever given her in his life and probably the most special thing that she owned. He remembered how heartbroken she'd become when she'd accidentally broken the clasp on it several months before. She'd told him once that the bracelet meant more to her than her engagement ring because it was the first thing Mike had ever given her. She turned to face him as he got out of bed. "I'll be right back," he vowed as he left the room, returning moments later dangling her bracelet from his fingers. "Could this be what you're missing?"

"I don't . . . know," she admitted. "I just . . . know . . . that I'm . . . missing . . . something."

"I gave this to you our very first Christmas together," he slipped the bracelet around her right wrist and closed the clasp. "There was a somewhat corny speech that went with it, but I won't repeat that just now. This bracelet was how Willie knew that it was you on that bus."

"Mike . . . I'm really . . . trying to . . . remember," her eyes sparkled with tears.

"I know that. And you're getting better. Let's get some sleep. It's back to work for both of us tomorrow, so we both need our rest. Goodnight," he kissed her on the forehead before getting back under the covers.

She continued to lay awake, thinking back over her day with Mike. She wondered if they'd had days like that back in the early days of their relationship. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent such a nice day with anyone. She smiled as she lightly touched the rings she was now wearing on her left hand. During her life with Cleve, she'd always tried to think of what she could've possibly done in a previous life to make him treat her the way that he did. Back then, she'd dreaded the night time. Night time meant being in a locked room alone with Cleve, who wouldn't take no for an answer. Night time meant Jill crying and begging him to please stop hurting her down there. Somehow she knew that those night times with Mike would be different. He'd already shown his gentleness toward her in so many ways. She wondered if maybe she'd finally feel what Scarlett O'Hara felt the night that Rhett Butler had swept her off of her feet and carried her up that huge staircase.

***MJMJMJ***

The next afternoon, Mike had to stop on his way home to see the district attorney. He walked up to his door and knocked. He heard someone inside bid him to come in. "Mr. Danko, please come in," the D.A. waved Mike inside as he closed the door behind him. "How is your wife?"

"She's improving slowly, but surely," he answered as he sat down. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I understand that you want her to testify."

"That's right. I want to get as many of the survivors on the stand as I possibly can. I want the jury to see firsthand the damage that Mr. Cummings caused."

"Mr. Brooks, Jill has absolutely no memory of that day. Everything she knows about the accident is from what I've told her."

"Could you testify?"

"Me?"

"Tell the jury about her struggles to recover from her injuries. What she goes through on an everyday basis. Can you testify? I mean, there isn't going to be a conflict of interest, is there?"

"No, I wasn't assigned to the case, if that's what you mean. I'll gladly let the world know exactly what Jill is going through."

"The trial is scheduled to start in two weeks. I'll let you know when I need you to testify."

"That's it?"

"Yes, thanks for stopping by."

Driving back to the house, Mike wondered about the upcoming trial. He had to convince the jury that Albert Cummings needed to go to prison for a very long time.

**A/N: The next chapter is going to be an original story that I'm going to include to once again bridge the gap between this chapter and the following chapter where everything will finally come together for our favorite couple. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimers: Since the reins have still not been turned over to me, I guess I'll just have to be content with taking the characters out once in a while and player with them.**

**Summary: Questions, questions, and more questions. What can I say? This is a chapter full of questions, memories, friendship, friendships explored, attempts to move further forward, oh, and dancing. Mike thinks that Jill's having nightmares, only to discover that isn't quite the case. This chapter borders on M for suggestive subject matter.**

**A/N #1: I want to thank my Rookies bud Sheila for the dancing idea. I was planning on adding a new original chapter and the idea seemed to fit in perfectly with what I had planned. Again, this is a chapter bridging the previous chapter with the next one.**

**A/N #2: I always thought Roberta Flack's 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face' to be a perfect song for Mike and Jill Danko. It'll be referenced in this chapter.**

Chapter 12: Questions and Moving Further Forward

"So, how's Jill?" Terry asked as the three friends sat down for lunch.

"She's great," Mike smiled as he opened his lunch.

"How great is 'great?'" Willie looked at his friend.

"Well, we're sleeping together," Mike glanced at his two friends.

"So, she remembers you?" Terry questioned as he opened his can of soda.

"No, not quite," Mike shook his head. "I didn't say that we were having sex. I just said that we were sleeping together. I mean there's sleeping together and there's _sleeping together._"

"At least that's a step in the right direction," Willie pointed out as Mike nodded in agreement. "So, are we still on for this weekend?"

"Oh yeah. Jill's really looking forward to it. Just be prepared to play '20 questions' with her. These days she has questions about everything."

"What kind of questions?" Terry wanted to know.

"Well, right now, she has a lot of questions about Cleve's death. Just answer what you're comfortable with, but whatever you do, don't evade her. Evading her right now is the same as lying to her."

"How'd she take it when you told her?" Terry asked.

"Naturally, she's confused. And, some of it she forgot about almost right away. But, she does remember that he's dead. But, her nightmares . . . " he shook his head.

"They've gotten bad again?" Willie guessed.

"Yeah, but it's not like I'm not used to them," he grinned.

"Mike, why can't you tell us what he did to her?" Terry wondered out loud.

"Because I made a promise a long time ago. It took her a long time to tell me, and sometimes I think that I pushed her too hard about it. Let's just say that he was horribly abusive and leave it at that. Believe me when I tell you that you don't want to know the details."

"Do you think that she'll ever trust us enough to tell us?" Willie asked.

"I don't know."

***MJMJMJ***

"Do you . . . ever . . . get a . . . day off?" Jill was hanging out in the corral watching Trap exercise the horses.

"I make my own hours," he looked at her. "As long as the work gets done, my time is pretty much my own."

"How . . . did you . . . get this . . . job?"

"Well, I'd just gotten my degree and I saw this ad in the newspaper for someone looking for a handyman. I could handle all of the job requirements, so I called the number and . . . here I am."

"You have . . . a degree? You went . . . to . . . college?"

"I have a Bachelor's Degree in Animal Husbandry. Someday I hope to go for my Master's. You have a degree, too."

"Trap . . . I quit . . . school in . . . eighth . . . grade. Don't . . . you . . . remember? Me . . . you . . . Cleve . . . me screaming."

"After you met Mike, you earned your GED. After that, you enrolled at the University of Alabama in Anniston and then you transferred your credits to UCLA after Mike went to Vietnam."

"Why'd I . . . come out . . . here?"

"Jill, you need to ask Mike about that."

"So . . . I'm smart?"

"Are you kidding? You're probably the smartest person I know. Even Mike talks about how smart you are. You were smart even before you went back to school. Don't you remember all of the books you used to read in the house?"

"I remember . . . hiding," she sighed wistfully.

"So, how are things going with Mike?" He asked, changing the subject away from that house.

"Confusing," she admitted.

He turned around to look at his oldest friend. Right now she looked almost like she had as a skinny seven-year-old with braids and knobby knees. His brothers had constantly teased him about his friendship with her. But they shared so many adventures together until Cleve Andrews had come along and ruined everything.

He walked over and sat beside her on the bale of hay that she was resting on. "Why are you confused?"

"I can . . . talk to . . . you . . . about . . . anything, right?" She peered at him as he nodded solemnly. "Do you . . . like . . . sex?"

He fought to keep a blush from spreading over his face. He didn't want her to know that while he felt free to talk to her about anything, this wasn't exactly what he had in mind. "Yeah, I like sex," he finally managed to stammer out. "But, I'm a guy. It's kind of in my nature. Why? Is Mike pressuring you?"

"No . . . nothing . . . like that. I keep . . . having . . . these . . . dreams. They're . . . confusing."

"Dreams where you're having sex?" He guessed as she blushed. "Sex with Mike?"

"He said . . . that I . . . like . . . it . . . with him. But, how . . . can I?"

"Because he isn't Cleve," Trap reminded her.

"Does he . . . know . . . about that?"

"He told me a while back that you told him. You don't remember?"

"I never . . . told . . . anybody. Not . . . even . . . you," she whispered in shame and horror.

"Jill, I used to hear him. I'd hear you . . . begging him to stop hurting you. You were the one who told me that he had the gun."

"I know."

"I know that you never told me what he did, but it didn't exactly take rocket science to figure it out. I mean, I wasn't much older than you, but I knew what sex sounded like."

"It wasn't . . . sex," she hissed at him angrily.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

When she made the comment to him, something flashed into her head about someone else telling her the same thing. That it wasn't sex. Was it Mike? She couldn't remember. "How long . . . were we . . . there?"

"In the house?" She nodded. "Five years."

"Do you . . . remember when . . . Ace told . . . us about . . . Diane?"

How could he forget? Unlike Jill, he'd hated the bikers. All they ever did to him was tease him and call him 'mouse.' While he didn't say much, he noticed everything. One of the main things he noticed was his childhood friend slowly killing herself on a steady diet of Quaaludes and whiskey. He knew why she was doing it. He heard the reason 'why' several times a night every night of the week. She was disappearing right before his eyes and he was powerless to do anything about it.

Then one of the bikers, Ace, had found his girlfriend Diana facedown in their bathtub. That had been the turning point, not only for Jill, but also in terms of Cleve's cruelty toward her. "Yeah, I remember," he finally said.

"I didn't . . . fight him . . . as much . . . when I was taking . . . 'Ludes. I . . . didn't feel . . . him as . . . much."

"Jill . . . "

"No . . . let me . . . finish."

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He hated talking about that house. He hated even remembering that house. But he knew that talking about it was important to her in her recovery. "I'm sorry. Go ahead."

"After . . . Ace found . . . Diane . . . I got . . . scared. I stopped . . . taking . . . 'Ludes. I started . . . fighting him."

"And he liked it?" Trap figured out as she nodded.

"I don't . . . want to . . . fight Mike. But . . . what if . . . he hurts . . . me . . . too?"

"If he's told you that you like being with him, I don't think he's going to hurt you. But, you're getting ahead of yourself anyway. You're still getting used to being around him again. I think it's too early to start jumping to the next step."

"Maybe."

***MJMJMJ***

Later that afternoon, Trap spotted Mike pulling in under the carport and loped over to him. "Hey, do you have a few minutes?"

"Yeah. Is something wrong?" Mike asked as he followed Trap toward the small house that the handyman called home. He walked inside as Trap closed the door. "Wow, this is a really nice place."

"Thanks. Do you want a beer?"

"No. What's on your mind?"

"Jill and I had a very strange conversation this afternoon and I'm not sure what it means."

"What did you talk about?" Mike sat down in a nearby chair.

"First off, please don't take this the wrong way, but mainly it was about sex."

"Okay," Mike drawled out slowly.

"I guess she's been having some pretty intense dreams lately."

"She's been having nightmares," Mike confirmed as Trap shook his head. "Yeah, she has. I've been sleeping right beside her and she's been waking me up."

"Oh, I didn't know you were sleeping in the same bed," Trap said as he looked at Mike. "But, you know something? For such a smart guy, right now you're an idiot! Man, she's been having dreams about having sex. Dreams about having sex with you."

"Oh, wow," Mike breathed as he ran his hands through his hair.

"I didn't even know women had dreams like that. Anyway, the dreams are confusing to her, Mike. Because of her past history with him."

"Why didn't she say something to me?"

"Because I'm her best friend and she's shared almost everything with me. She doesn't remember having that with you, yet. Mike, if you tell her she's going to be embarrassed."

"Don't worry, I won't tell her. Lately, she's been asking a lot of questions. She's still trying to figure out how she fits into the scheme of things in my life."

"I don't mind answering her questions, but I thought you'd want to know about the sex thing."

"I'd better get back to the house. Paul will have dinner waiting."

***MJMJMJ***

After dinner, Mike saddled up the horses as they rode out to their tree. The plan was to stay out at the tree for a little while and then come back to the dock as the sun was going down. Watching the sun set over the lake was their new favorite time of the day. He settled against the tree trunk as Jill settled into the 'v' of his outstretched legs. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Ummm," she murmured as she interlaced her fingers with his. Just like old times, they were hand holding once again. She discovered that she liked holding hands with him very much.

"Do you want me to keep staying in the bedroom with you?"

"Why . . . wouldn't . . . I?"

"Well, I know that you're worried about things happening too fast. I just don't want you to feel like I'm rushing you."

She leaned against him deep in thought for several minutes before whirling around as fast as her body would allow her to. "Trap . . . talked . . . to you?" She accused, her eyes dark with anger and humiliation.

"He's just worried about you. I thought that you were having nightmares."

"I am . . . most of . . . the time," she bit her lip as she blushed scarlet. "It's so . . . confusing! I have . . . dreams . . . about him . . . but then . . . I have . . . dreams . . . about you! I'm scared . . . that you . . . are going . . . to get . . . tired of . . . waiting."

"That's not even remotely possible. I'm following your lead, remember? I told you that when we first started dating and I'm telling you that now."

"What does . . . that . . . even mean?"

"It means that when you're ready for me, you'll let me know," he drew her close as he kissed her.

They had shared a lot of kisses under this tree since that first one when they'd spent the day together. So far, all they'd one was kiss. But today she found herself taking his hand and placing it on her stomach her over shirt.

He pulled away and looked her in the eye as he slowly slid his hand up further to lightly cup her breasts through her shirt. She gasped at the feeling but she didn't pull away. Instead she pressed her hand over his as she leaned in to kiss him again, her tongue mingling with his. But she suddenly stopped when she felt his straining erection through his jeans. "It's okay," he was breathing hard as he rested his forehead against hers. "But, we should head back to the house. We can watch the sun set and then I need to take a cold shower."

"Do I . . . ?" She stopped, blushing darker than ever as she looked down at his crotch.

"No," he shook his head. "It's okay, because I understand why you don't."

She closed her eyes tightly against the feelings of shame and embarrassment that were sweeping over her in waves. "Do you?" She finally asked as he helped her to her feet and back onto Dusty.

"Oh, yeah," he grinned.

"And I . . . let you?" She managed to squeak out as he laughed.

"Let me? There have been times I've thought that you were going to suffocate me," he climbed onto Ranger as he led them back to the house.

"Michael!" She chastised him as he laughed even more merrily. She loved to listen to him laugh. It was like listening to music. She was glad that she could make him laugh, even over something so frigging _embarrassing._ She just wanted the ground to swallow her up right now.

After watching the sun set, they went back into the house where Mike fixed them both huge bowls of ice cream, much to Jill's delight. He'd discovered long ago that his wife was an ice cream and pizza junkie. "I liked hearing you call me 'Michael' a while ago. You only call me that when you're really irritated at me or when you're in the throes of . . . "

"Don't . . . say it," she warned as she pointed her spoon at him. "Mike? Where . . . was the . . . last place . . . that we . . . went before . . . this . . . happened?"

"Let me think," he thought for a few minutes before he answered her. "We went to The Open House with Willie and Terry a couple of nights before. We do that sometimes. But, the last place that you and I went was Santa Monica. We went there the Saturday before this happened to you."

"What was . . . I like? Before?"

He knew how hard she was trying to claw her way back to him, and at times it was still too emotional for him to think about. What she was like depended on which period she was talking about. "When I first met you, you were pretty closed-off. I could tell that you were scared all of the time. You were much different by the time we got married. I mean, you were still fearful, at times, but you were so much more relaxed. Then I fucked up . . . " he stopped when he saw the look on her face.

"What did . . . you do?"

"Hey, did I tell you that Willie and Terry are coming over Saturday? They're going to bring plenty of pizza with them," he took their ice cream bowls and headed for the kitchen.

"What did . . . you mean . . . by what . . . you just said?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now," he came over and leaned over her chair. "Let's go watch TV."

After watching TV, they did her evening exercises before getting ready for bed. After they both took showers, he got into bed and pulled her against him as he pulled the covers securely over them. "Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine," she yawned as she reached for his hand.

She woke up a few hours later, her heart racing and her nightgown sticking to her sweat-soaked skin. That dream was the most intense one, yet. She sat up, feeling as if she couldn't get enough air. She glanced down at Mike, who was soundly sleeping. Not wanting to wake him up, she got out of bed and as quietly as possible, made her way out of the room.

Mike woke up and rolled over; waking up when he found the other side of the bed was empty. Not only empty, but cool which meant that Jill had been up for a while. He got up and padded toward the living room, surprised to find the front door opened. 'Please tell me that she didn't go wandering around in the middle of the night,' he silently prayed as he stepped onto the front porch, where he found Jill in one of the patio chairs, her legs tucked up under her in her white gown. "Are you okay?" He knelt down by her chair.

"I don't . . . understand . . . these . . . dreams, Mike," he couldn't help but notice that she was crying. "I don't . . . understand . . . the way . . . that . . . they're . . . making me feel."

"I know that all you remember is the pain of what he used to do to you," he brushed the tears from her cheeks. "It's not like that with us."

"What did . . . you . . . think . . . when I . . . told you . . . about him? About us?"

"The truth?" She looked at him as she slowly nodded, her eyes huge and fearful. "I wanted to kill the son of a bitch."

"It was you," she wiped at her eyes as he looked confused. "It was . . . you who . . . told me . . . that what . . . he did . . . wasn't sex."

"Because it wasn't. Even what we do isn't about the sex," now it was her turn to look confused. "It's all about making love. Every time I touch you, or kiss you, or even look at you, it's me making love to you," he said as he demonstrated.

"That's sweet," she said against his lips as they deepened the kiss.

"That's me, all about the sweetness. Come on, let's go back to bed."

***MJMJMJ***

"So, Mike was telling me that your police friends are coming out tomorrow to spend the day," Paul said as they worked on Jill's pool exercises.

"They're . . . bringing . . . pizza."

"So, have you four been friends for a long time?"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

Paul was becoming impressed with her constantly improving vocal skills. "What about you and your friend Trap?"

"What about us?"

"Was he ever your boyfriend?"

"Trap?" She almost choked on the very idea. "No we . . . are just . . . friends. He wanted . . . to be . . . my . . . boyfriend . . . but I said . . . no."

"Did he know your other friend? The ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah," she looked away from him. "Paul . . . I don't . . . want to . . . talk about . . . him."

"Jill, do you remember what Dr. Conti suggested on your last visit?"

She closed her eyes as she remembered what he'd told her that day.

"_How are your memories of Mike coming along?"_

"_I remember . . . some things . . . but some things . . . are fuzzy."_

"_You do understand that your other friend Cleve is dead?"_

"_Mike told me."_

"_Jill, I really think if you talk about what you went through with him, it might propel you toward Mike. You might start remembering your life with him."_

"Your family wasn't worried when you were with him?" Paul continued working her leg as she grunted from the pain.

"I thought . . . that they didn't . . . care."

"But you found out that you were wrong?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know . . . why I . . . remembered that."

"So, you remember a life after you got away from him?"

"No, not really."

"How did you know him?"

"Cleve?" She looked to him for clarification as he nodded. "Paul, you can . . . say his name. I'm not . . . going . . . to kick you."

"So, how did you know Cleve?"

"His mother . . . and stepfather lived . . . up the road. He wasn't . . . around much . . . when I was . . . growing up."

"Did you love him?"

"No, I was . . . afraid of him. Paul, I really . . . don't want to . . . talk about him . . . anymore."

"I'm sorry," he stopped, realizing that he was pushing her.

"Can I go . . . wandering . . . when we're . . . done?"

"Are you going to your usual spot?" He asked as she nodded. "Yeah, go ahead."

After her exercises, she went to the stable and called Domino, who happily set off with her to the tree. She'd gotten so confident on the crutches that she hardly ever had any stumbles anymore. Dr. Conti had told her on her last visit that he was so impressed by her progress that he was going to have Paul get her ready for her next progression.

She sat down against the trunk in Mike's usual spot as the dog flopped down next to her. As she hugged her knees to her chest, her thoughts drifted to this man who claimed to be her husband. He had to be her husband. After all, she was wearing his rings, wasn't she? She examined the two rings on her left hand. She wished that she could remember when he'd originally placed both of them on her hand. She found herself wondering if it had been a fancy church wedding or something simpler. She knew that Mike had been wearing his army uniform. She remembered that from the pictures he'd originally shown her.

As her thoughts went to their marriage, it automatically went to that other dreaded topic. Sex. The dreams that she had been having were leaving her hot and confused when she woke up from them. In her dreams she could feel Mike touching her and kissing her in the place where she'd felt nothing but pain before. Remembering those dreams now left her feeling as she did after they woke her up.

She thought about the night time. Night time used to be horrible for her. But, the night time with Mike was different. He held her to him so gently, always softly stroking her arms or back as she drifted off. She always awoke in the morning to the secure feeling of his hand resting on her hip.

As they watched TV together in the evenings, she always sat against his chest as he sat with one arm casually draped over her, something that he was obviously very accustomed to. With his arm draped lightly over her, she could touch his fingers or interlace them with her own as she loved to do. With she intertwined their fingers; he always closed his fingers over hers and gave them a gentle squeeze which always made her smile.

She noticed that he liked touching her a lot. He was either holding her hands, enfolding her into his warm embrace. Or stroking his hands down her side as she slept. But she'd also discovered lately that as much as he liked touching her or holding her, she liked him touching and holding her.

She was deep in thought when she heard a horse whinny. Domino pricked his ears as Mike rode up on Ranger. "Is it . . . that late . . . already?"

"No, I took half a day off. Paul told me that you were out here," he got down from the horse as he walked over and sat down beside her.

She smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him. "Hi," she said against his lips.

It made his heart light to see her so happy to see him. It had taken a long time to get to this point. While she still didn't have any real memories of him, at least she seemed happy to have him around. "The guys will be here at around four tomorrow afternoon," he informed her as he stretched his long legs out in front of him.

"Not until then?" She asked in disappointment.

"They have to work, baby. We'll still have a great time," he took her hand and played with her fingers.

"I was . . . thinking," she bit her lip as he smiled up at her.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Did we used . . . to make out . . . a lot?"

"All of the time," he couldn't help but grin. "We still do."

"What do we . . . do for fun? Besides _that," _she rolled her eyes at the look of pure lust on his face.

"Let me see," he started thinking. "We go to movies, we play cards or Monopoly with the guys, we go to Santa Monica and walk on the pier or on the beach, sometimes I take you to Catalina Island, but that has more to do with _that_," he told her as she swatted at him. "I even take you dancing on occasion."

"Dancing?" She questioned him. "I can't dance."

"Sure you can," he pulled her down to him as his lips once again found hers. "I taught you."

She settled her head down on his chest as his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to him. They lay like that for a long time, feeling drowsy and comfortable in the warm grass. "Did we . . . have a big . . . wedding?"

"It wasn't real big," his hands slowly stroked her back. "We had about 15 people there. Your sister and brother-in-law . . . "

"Amanda was there?"

"She was your matron of honor."

"Who else?" She whispered against his chest.

"Your Uncle Ray and Aunt Lorraine, your grandfather, Trap, your cousin Jimmy and his wife, and a few friends of mine. It was small, but it was the happiest day of my life."

"Really?" She couldn't help smiling.

"Yeah, because I was marrying my very best friend." He was shocked when he felt her sobbing against his chest. "Baby? What's wrong?"

"I want to . . . remember . . . all of that! You sound . . . so happy . . . when you . . . talk about it! I want to . . . remember being . . . happy like . . . that!"

"You're going to remember. You have to remember what Dr. Conti told you on your last visit. When he said that your memory is like the yellow-brick road in 'The Wizard of Oz.' You just have to travel down that road."

"I don't . . . like . . . talking about . . . him!" She sniffled.

"I know, but until you revisit that part of your past, it's going to be hard for you to move forward. What's the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about him?"

"Pain," she lifted her head up so that she could stare into his beautiful blue-green eyes. His eyes were killer gorgeous. "Not from . . . that . . . first time. I mean . . . that was . . . awful. It took . . . us almost . . . four days . . . to get to . . . L.A. He didn't touch . . . me while we . . . were on the . . . road. The first night . . . in the house . . . he locked the . . . door behind him . . . and unzipped his . . . pants."

Mike closed his eyes, feeling even sicker now than he did when he'd first heard her tell her story to him. As with back then, all he wanted to do was take her into his arms and take her pain away. That was all he ever wanted to do. He'd held her through hundreds of nightmares over the past five years. All because of _him. _"Tell me about Bear offering to kill him for you," he decided to steer her away from the sexual abuse.

She smiled as she thought of the huge biker. "Bear was the . . . only one that . . . Cleve was afraid of. Cleve hit me . . . in front of . . . him one night . . . and Bear was . . . all over him. He saw bruises . . . on me and . . . asked me if . . . I wanted him . . . to 'take care' . . . of him for me. I was . . . tempted."

"I'm sure that you were. Was Bear the only one who was nice to you?"

"Cleve made . . . sure that the . . . others knew . . . that I was . . . his. They ignored . . . me. Bear wasn't . . . afraid of . . . Cleve."

"When you first told me about him, it made me sick."

"Why did you . . . leave me . . . when you knew—"

"He told you that he was dying. You felt sorry for him. I didn't want to leave you alone with him, but you insisted. I can never deny you anything," he gave her a rueful smile. "I asked the guys to look out for you, but let's just say things didn't exactly go very well. He managed to keep you away from them and they never got to meet him."

"Are they . . . still mad?"

"I'll let you ask them yourselves when they come out tomorrow."

Paul left early that evening since Mike had come home early. He was getting things ready for her evening exercises as she sat in a chair, watching him. The radio was softly playing in the background as she watched him work. Suddenly, he smiled as he heard a particular song come on the radio.

She looked up in surprise as he went to turn the volume up before walking over to her with his hand extended. "May I have this dance, milady?" He grinned at her as she looked at him in surprise.

"Mike, my crutches . . . " she protested.

"Trust me," he said in a low voice as he helped her to her feet. "Put your arms around my neck," he instructed as he stepped back to the middle of the room. "This time follow my lead."

She held onto him as she let her bare feet follow the lead of where his feet were taking them. As they danced, he sang some of the words of the song in her ear. "The first time ever I lay with you; I felt your heart so close to mine; and our joy would fill the earth until the end of time," she looked up at him and smiled before she buried her face into his neck as he continued moving with her.

As he moved with her, he couldn't help but become aroused. It was that way every time he danced with her. Many of their nights coming home after dancing involved clothes being shed as soon as their apartment door closed behind them. He reluctantly pulled away from her as the song ended and the next one began.

"You need . . . another cold . . . shower," she smiled shyly as he helped her back over to her chair.

"Dancing with you always has that affect on me," he grinned. "So, did you enjoy dancing with me?"

"Very much. Can we do . . . that again?"

"Definitely. I'm going to go take that shower."

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was on the dock the next afternoon feeding the ducks when Willie and Terry arrived. She smiled and waved when she saw them. Terry handed several pizza boxes to Willie before walking down to the dock to join her. "Wow, Mike wasn't kidding. You do look great!" He sat down beside her. "Where's your old man?"

"Mike?" He nodded. "In the house. What's Willie . . . doing?"

"We brought pizza. He took it into the house. I'm sure him and Michael will be out here in a few minutes."

Inside the house, Willie handed Mike the three large pizza boxes. "So, she's okay?"

"She's out on the dock. You can go see for yourself. I told her that I'd give her some time alone with the two of you, anyway. So, let me go take care of stuff in here while you go and chat with her," he suggested.

Willie walked down to the dock where Jill and Terry were feeding stale bread to the ducks. "Where are your shoes?" Willie asked as he noticed Jill's bare feet.

"I only . . . wear them . . . when I go . . . for walks. Do you know . . . everything about . . . Mike?"

"Probably not everything," Terry confessed. "But we can probably answer your questions about him."

"No, never mind. I'll ask him. He said that . . . you were angry . . . about Cleve. Why?"

Terry looked over at Willie, remembering what Mike had told them about not evading her questions. "When Mike went out of town, he asked us to look out for you. We knew about the boyfriend . . . "

"He _wasn't _my . . . boyfriend," she firmly corrected him. "I was . . . scared . . . shitless . . . of him."

"Anyway, we knew that he'd come to town, but Mike didn't tell us why he was worried. We kept trying to meet him, but all we got was one excuse after another. At the time we didn't know it was him making the excuses and not you."

"He almost killed all three of us, Jill," Willie cut in. "We found him holding you in the woods and he ordered us to drop our guns or he was going to kill you. You told us to do what he was asking."

"You got in . . . trouble?" She guessed as the two men nodded.

"Mike came out of nowhere right in the nick of time and we learned that he was getting ready to kill you, anyway."

"Jill, I understand that you don't feel comfortable telling us about him," she looked at Terry. "But it would've been nice to know something."

"Mike said . . . that he got . . . sick when I . . . told him."

"Does Trap know?" Willie asked.

"Trap was . . . there," she told him. "He hates . . . talking . . . about it. He just . . . shuts down."

"How'd you get away from him?"

"I don't . . . remember."

"Hey, are you guys ready to eat?" Mike came out on the dock.

"I'm starving!" Willie announced as he jumped to his feet.

Mike helped Jill to her feet as he slipped his arm around her as Terry watched them. Over the two years that he'd known Mike; he'd seen him demonstrate his gentleness toward Jill many times over. If Cleve had been as abusive as he suspected, he now understood the reasons behind that tenderness.

The three guys and Jill managed to polish off all three pizzas and several cans of soda over the course of the evening. She enjoyed laughing with them as they teased each other. She could see how much they enjoyed each others' company. It was after midnight before they parted company. "We'll have to do this again," Mike said as they walked the two men out to the car.

"Get some sleep," they said as Terry got behind the wheel and started the car as Willie got in on the passenger side.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Mike smiled down at Jill after the guys had driven off.

Later that night, Mike was awakened by Jill's shrill screams in the darkness. His heart was pounding as he bolted straight up. She hadn't screamed like this since the early days of their relationship. She kept screaming one word over and over, but it took him a few seconds to realize what she was screaming. "Blood! Blood! It's all over!" She continued screaming.

"Jill," he put his hand on her shoulder to awaken her. "Baby, you're dreaming. Come on, open your eyes."

The noise stopped as suddenly as if someone had turned off a faucet. "There's so . . . much blood," she whispered as she held her arms out in front of her. "It's all over . . . my arms. It's all over. Don't you . . . see it?"

"Oh, baby," he pulled her closer as she buried her head into his chest. She had to be remembering her wrists. That's the only thing that it could be.

"Cleve kept . . . screaming at me . . . that I was . . . fucking up . . . the floors. Don't let them . . . tie my arms . . . down."

Part of him realized that she was still half asleep and somewhat in her dream. "Do you remember why you did it?" He asked as he rubbed circles on her back.

"He hurt me . . . so bad! I couldn't take . . . him . . . doing that to . . . me anymore! They wanted . . . to know who . . . had . . . done that . . . to me. I was too . . . scared to tell . . . them. He was . . . huge . . . and it felt . . . like . . . it was made . . . of sandpaper. I knew if . . . I died that . . . the pain . . . would stop."

As he held her to his chest, Mike knew that he'd do anything in his power to help her slay those demons from her past that kept trying to take her away from him. "He's dead, baby. He's gone. He's never going to come back and hurt you again."

"Mike?" She pulled away to look at him. "Did he do . . . anything to . . . me—"

"No, baby," he shook his head. "We got to you before he had a chance."

She sighed in relief as she once again buried her head into his chest. "I wish I'd . . . taken Bear up . . . on his offer."

"No, you don't," he told her as he continued to rub her back.

"What do you . . . usually do . . . when I have . . . bad dreams?"

"Usually what I'm doing right now. I hold you and tell you that everything's going to be okay."

"I love you, Mike," his heart almost stopped as she uttered the words that he'd been waiting almost three months to hear.

"Oh baby, I love you, too."

**A/N: It was hard to find a stopping point for this chapter. Sorry if it got a little graphic, but my muse had a brutal ex. Anyway, the next chapter I'm going to put Mike and Jill back together **_**completely**_** as the trial begins.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimers: I still don't own the show, just the storyline. **

**Summary: The trial of Albert Cummings starts as Jill continues asking questions. Mike makes a decision regarding the current sleeping arrangements. **

**A/N: Mike and Jill aren't going to reconnect just yet. I'm saving that for the next chapter.**

**A/N #2: If I repeat some things in this chapter, I apologize. But remember that we're dealing with a person suffering from short term memory loss. Some things have to be repeated to her over and over.**

Chapter 13: The Trial and Beginning to Reconnect at Last

Jill had had a rough day. Therapy had been extremely painful, which caused her to fight Paul tooth and nail to leave her alone. "I know that you're in a lot of pain today," he noticed. "But you've come so far. Why do you want to stop now?"

"Because you're . . . hurting me!" She screamed as she tried to pull away from him.

"We're almost done. You can do your pool exercises this evening with Mike, okay? We'll skip the pool this morning," he continued working her leg.

"Liar!"

"We won't get in the pool this morning," he repeated. "Can I ask you something?" He asked as he continued working her through her exercises. "Why'd you stay with Cleve if he was so mean to you?"

She looked at Paul through hard eyes. How had he known about Cleve? Who'd told him? "What do . . . you know . . . about Cleve?"

"Mike told me that he knocked you into a swimming pool, which is why you're so scared of deep water. Why'd you stay with him?" He asked once again.

She'd never thought about why she'd stayed with him. She'd known him and his family for most of her life. She'd always thought of her grandfather as something akin to a slave driver, so when Cleve had asked her to go with him to California, she'd jumped at the chance. Anything sounded better than working her fingers to the bone from dawn to dusk seven days a week. It didn't take her long to realize that life on her grandfather's farm was paradise compared to life with Cleve. "I couldn't . . . leave."

"Why couldn't you leave? Did he keep you locked in a room or something?"

"Yes, sometimes. He told . . . me that . . . he'd kill me."

"And you believed him?"

"Yes. He kept . . . a gun by . . . the bed."

"So, how'd you meet Mike? He seemed to be the polar opposite of Cleve."

"I don't . . . remember."

"Do his police friends know how you met him? Maybe they could clue you in."

Willie and Terry. Jill hadn't thought about asking them. Being Mike's best friends, they probably knew his entire life story by heart. She'd have to ask them. "I never . . . thought of . . . asking them. Can you . . . call . . . them . . . for me?"

"Now?" Paul asked as she nodded eagerly. She was anxious to know more about Mike. She wanted to feel married to him, something that was still missing. "Let's finish up here and I'll see about calling them for you." After they finished, he looked up the number that Mike had left for his friends. He held the receiver out to her. "You dial. They're your friends."

***MJMJMJ***

Willie was at home reading the newspaper when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Is this . . . Willie or . . . Terry?"

"This is Willie," he sat straight up. "Jill, is something wrong?" He was surprised that she was calling them.

"Can you . . . come over? You and . . . Terry?"

"Terry's on duty today. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure that he's riding with Mike. Did you need to talk to both of us or will just one of us do?"

"Well . . . both of you . . . would be . . . better. But you . . . can answer . . . my questions."

"Okay."

She was in extreme pain when Willie arrived just over an hour later. She opted to wait to take something for the pain after he left. She didn't like using the pain killers very often, because they knocked her out and left her feeling disconnected for hours afterward. But sometimes she had to give in. She was sitting on the patio with her bare feet propped in a chair when Paul showed Willie outside. "Hi," he greeted her as he sat down. Normally, he'd kiss her on the cheek, but Mike had warned both him and Terry against doing that.

"Hi, do you . . . want some . . . lemonade?" She reached for a glass.

"I'll get it. You sound great," he smiled as he poured a glass of lemonade. "Now what's on your mind? Is Mike mistreating you? If he is, you're more than welcome to stay with us. You can have my room and I'll crash on the couch."

"No, Mike's been . . . great," she smiled, blushing slightly. "Do you . . . know all of . . . his . . . stories?"

"Which stories? The ones about you and Mike? Or the ones about you and Cleve?"

"What do . . . you know . . . about Cleve . . . and me?" Her voice rose a notch.

"Nothing, Jill. I'm sorry, that was stupid. Terry and I didn't even know that he was dangerous until right before we found you in those woods. You remember that, don't you?" He was unsure what she remembered as opposed to what Mike had told her.

"Mike told . . . me. I remembered . . . you and . . . Terry. He pointed . . . a gun . . . at both of . . . you."

"Terry was upset with you and Mike. But I guess that I shouldn't be telling you about that right now. What do you want to know about Mike?"

"He told . . . you how he . . . met me?"

"Some of it. He said that you were working in your uncle's bar. He also told me that you couldn't stand him when you first met him. He said that you referred to him as a pest," he grinned as Jill hung onto every word.

A pest. She had a flash of military khaki and a cap. "He told me . . . that I beat . . . him at pool."

"Oh, we never play pool against you," he shook his head in horror at the memory. "Can I tell you about the first time that I ever saw you?" Jill smiled and nodded. "Mike and I were patrolling right after we'd graduated. At dinnertime, we stopped at this bowling alley. He asked me to order something for him, and then he disappeared. I saw him talking to this beautiful woman for a very long time. When he came back, I commented that you were a 'nice looking chick.' He then told me that you were no 'chick,' that you were his wife. I had no idea that he was even married."

She frowned as another flash hit her. A police officer showing up while she was working. It had to have been Mike. She hadn't known any other cops. She'd never liked cops and Cleve had drilled it into her that cops were the enemy. "There was . . . a party. We went and . . . then Mike . . . disappeared."

"That would've been Officer Shaw's retirement party. The first thing I ever said to you was something about the fact that you never sleep. You got pissed," he smiled ruefully at the memory.

"So Mike . . . never told you . . . anything . . . that I . . . might have . . . told him . . . about Cleve?"

"No, Jill. Even after he got killed, Mike wouldn't tell us anything. Terry and I knew that Cleve was abusive by things that you've said over the years, but we don't know any details. Mike told us that we were better off not knowing the details. I admit that sometimes I'm morbidly curious, but what happened really isn't any of our business. Now what else do you want to know about Mike?"

"I have . . . dreams," she said as Willie poured another glass of lemonade.

"What do you dream about?"

"I don't . . . talk to Mike . . . about them. I don't . . . know if they're . . . real. I have . . . dreams about a . . . baby. Terry told me . . . that we . . . don't have . . . kids."

"Jill, you really should talk to Mike about that," he felt uncomfortable, not wanting to delve into something so painful about something that was clearly between Mike and Jill.

"Why?"

"Please just talk to him about that," he begged her.

***MJMJMJ***

The house was quiet when Mike arrived home late that afternoon. Paul was sitting on the back patio reading a magazine when Mike walked outside. "Where's Jill? Don't tell me that she's vanished on you again."

"No, she's resting. She's been in a lot of pain today. I gave her one of her pain pills, and she went to lie down. She's been asleep for about two hours now," he glanced at his watch. "Willie came over earlier and they visited for a while, but she was in agony by the time he left."

"I'll go look in on her. Those pills give her bad dreams, sometimes," he went back into the house. When he walked into the front bedroom, Jill was tossing and turning, her forehead beaded with sweat. He sat down and put his hand on her forehead. "Baby," he whispered as she jerked awake, staring at him fearfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Did I . . . scream?"

"No, I just walked in. Why? Were you having a bad dream?" He asked as she struggled to sit up. "Paul said that you were having a lot of pain today. Do you want me to call Dr. Conti?"

"No," she cuddled into him as he wrapped his arms around her. "You're very . . . patient."

"What're you talking about? What exactly did you and Willie discuss this afternoon? Did he say something to upset you?" He asked, concern etched into his eyes.

"We had . . . problems?"

"Jill, I'm confused. I think that I could also use a beer. Why don't I get a beer and we'll go down to the dock and feed the ducks. Then we can talk."

He grabbed a couple of beers and walked out with Jill to the dock where they took some stale bread from a bin and threw it into the water for the ducks. "Willie told me . . . about the . . . first time . . . he ever . . . saw me. At the . . . bowling alley. I don't think . . . we got . . . along very . . . well back . . . then."

"You were angry at me, for good reason. The last time that I went to Vietnam, I didn't write to you. I came here to California because I heard that you'd come out here with Trap. I didn't think that you were going to come back and live with me. I thought that I was going to have to get on my knees and beg you," he smiled at the memory.

"That's what you . . . meant when . . . you said . . . that you'd . . . fucked up?" She looked at him as he nodded. "Mike . . . I keep having . . . these dreams. Willie got very . . . upset when I . . . asked him about . . . it. Did we . . . have a . . . baby?" She looked at him as he gave her a sharp glance.

"You were pregnant," he said slowly as he took a long drink of his beer. "But you lost it. It happened right before Cleve came back."

"When I was . . . with Cleve . . . I was . . . always afraid of . . . that. He'd never . . . let me keep . . . a baby."

"Maybe that was a good thing. I've seen what he's done to you. I don't even want to think about what he'd do to a baby. Now, what were you saying earlier about me being patient?"

"This can't . . . be easy for . . . you. We had a . . . life that . . . I can't . . . remember. There was an . . . accident . . . that I can't . . . remember! Now I . . . find out . . . that there . . . was a baby . . . that I can't . . . remember!" The last word came out as a sharp scream as he jumped to his feet.

"Baby, it's okay. Calm down," he put his hands on her shoulders as he stared into her eyes. "I'm not even going to pretend that I understand how frustrated you are. And you're right. Maybe I am extremely patient. But it's because I love you so much. But inside every day, my heart aches for you. For us. I have to get on the stand in a couple of weeks and tell a courtroom full of people how much you struggle every day."

"Why?"

"So that the man who did this to you will go to prison for a very long time."

"You're scared?"

"No, I've testified before. I just don't want people to tear you apart since you've been trying so hard to get your life back."

"I can testify," she insisted.

"No, baby. It's already been decided."

"Can I go? To the . . . trial?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea," he rubbed her shoulders.

"You know . . . everything?"

"Everything about what?"

"About Cleve? I told you . . . everything?"

"No, I don't know everything. You've made it very clear that there are some things that you might not ever be ready to tell me. But I know that he used to beat you. And I know about the nights," he stopped when he felt her starting to shake violently in his arms.

"I told you . . . about that? You told . . . Willie and . . . Terry?"

"No, baby. They don't know anything about that. And they never will. That will always be just between us."

"You still . . . love me . . . after I told . . . you? You still . . . wanted to . . . be with me?"

"Let's sit back down," he helped her into a nearby lawn chair as he sat at her feet, taking her hands in both of his. "My friends thought that I was crazy. My father thought that I was even more so. One of my friends even accused me of just wanting to rescue you. All of this was before I knew how bad it had been with him. You kept telling me that you could never tell me because I'd leave you if I knew."

"I was afraid," she remembered. "Every day . . . in that house. The daytime . . . was okay. He'd just . . . hit me," Mike winced at her words. "Mike . . . believe me . . . when I say . . . that I'd . . . rather have . . . him beat me . . . rather . . . than what . . . happened at . . . night. At night . . . when it got . . . dark I'd want . . . to hide. Or take . . . his car keys . . . and run away. I can't be . . . believe . . . I told you. Why?"

"Sometimes I think it's because I pushed you into it. Maybe I was too damn curious. I don't really know why you told me. It sounds kind of sick and twisted when I think about it now."

"The dream . . . that I had . . . about my . . . wrists. Did I tell . . . you about that?"

"When I asked about your wrists, for a long time you joked and said that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Finally, you told me that you were drunk and it was just something that you decided to do. Trap was the one who rushed you to the emergency room. He didn't know that they were going to lock you up on the psych ward for 72 hours."

She thought back. She remembered being restrained to a bed. She also remembered not wanting to see Trap when he visited her. "I was . . . mad at Trap?"

"Yeah, because you thought that he'd had you locked up on purpose. Trap told me that if he knew that they were going to lock you up, he would've found a way to stitch you up himself."

"I wasn't . . . mad at him . . . because of the . . . lock-up," she said as Mike stared at her. "He said . . . that he was . . . taking me . . . back to . . . Alabama. He was supposed . . . be take me . . . to my . . . grandfather," she remembered as he bit back a smile. "I made him . . . take me to . . . Uncle Ray . . . instead."

"That's exactly what happened," he smiled as he rubbed her fingers.

"I'm very tired," she suddenly announced as she struggled to get to her feet.

He helped her to her feet, knowing that she'd had enough for one day. He knew that she was still trying to come to terms regarding her relationship with Cleve. He knew that she was still upset that night when she didn't want him staying with her. "Are you sure?" He asked as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm tired. I just want . . . to be left . . . alone."

"I'll see you in the morning, then," he kissed her on the forehead before leaving the room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

***MJMJMJ***

Since Mike was a witness in Albert Cummings' trial, he couldn't sit in the courtroom to watch the other witnesses testify. As one of the first officers on the scene, Willie was one of the first to testify for the prosecution. He was sworn in and took his seat on the stand.

"Please state your name and occupation for the record," the D.A. instructed him.

"William Andrew Gillis. I'm a police officer for the SCPD."

"Officer Gillis, will you please tell the court how you came to be acquainted with the defendant?"

"My unit was called to the scene of a traffic accident to direct traffic."

"What was your initial job at the scene?"

Hadn't he just said why he was there? Sighing, he answered the question, "We were there to direct traffic away from the scene of the accident."

"What happened when you arrived on the scene?"

Could this guy be any more redundant? "Fire and Rescue said that they needed help finding victims inside of the bus. My partner and I decided that I'd help them while he continued directing traffic."

"What happened when you entered the bus?"

"One of the firemen had handed me a red magic marker and he instructed me to mark any bodies that I found in the wreckage with the marker. I was instructed to only look for living victims."

"How'd you enter the bus?"

"The bus was on its side so I had to climb down a ladder through a broken window."

"Did you initially find any survivors?"

"No, sir."

"How many bodies did you find before you found any survivors?"

"I marked four bodies," he took a deep breath, trying to erase the horrors of that day.

"Tell the court about finding Mrs. Danko."

"Objection! Sidebar, your honor!" Cummings' lawyer ordered as the judge motioned both attorney's to the bench. "Your honor, Officer Gillis is a close, personal friend of Officer and Mrs. Danko. I object to this line of questioning due to the witness' state of mind at the time that he found her body."

"Mrs. Danko isn't a body, your honor. She survived the accident," the D.A. glared at his opponent.

"Your objection is sustained, Mr. Miller. Step back."

"Officer Gillis, where did you find Mrs. Danko?" The D.A. resumed his questioning.

"Under a pile of bus seats and other debris."

"How did you know that it was Mrs. Danko?"

"I recognized a bracelet that she always wore."

"Did you find any other survivors after you helped remove Mrs. Danko from the bus?"

"No, sir."

"No further questions," the D.A. stepped back.

"Good morning, Officer Gillis," Mr. Miller greeted pleasantly as he approached the witness stand.

"Good morning," Willie answered warily.

"When you arrived at the scene of the accident, were you aware that your good friend had been a passenger on the bus?"

"Objection!"

"Overruled. Watch your tone, Mr. Miller."

"What did you do after you found Mrs. Danko?"

"I informed my partner and we went to tell her husband."

"What was your emotional state when you went to inform Officer Danko of his wife's accident?"

"I was upset," Willie admitted.

"Did you make any comments to my client?"

"I've never spoken to your client."

"Did Officer Danko make any comments about my client when you told him what had happened?"

"I don't think so. At least not in my presence."

"But he could've said something outside of your presence?"

"I suppose so, but I don't know."

"No further questions," Mr. Miller said as he went and sat back down leaving Willie feeling puzzled and confused.

"You may step down, Officer Gillis."

Mike was pacing the hallway when Willie stepped out of the courtroom. "How'd it go?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. His attorney asked me if you'd said anything about Cummings. Mike, did you threaten him in any way?"

"I said something to the TV people the day of the arraignment. Ryker called me out on the carpet for it. I haven't said anything to him since."

"Is Jill okay? She was upset yesterday when I left. Mike, if I said or did anything to upset her, I apologize."

"She had a rough morning and was in a lot of pain. It wasn't anything that you did. She's starting to remember things and some of the memories are upsetting to her. I was thinking that maybe we could barbecue this weekend."

"That sounds great to me. I'll let Terry know."

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was sitting on the dock with her feet dangling toward the water when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Terry standing there. "Hi," he sat down beside her. "Willie was telling me that you wanted to play 20 questions with us. I thought that you'd be busy this morning with therapy."

"I'm done. You're . . . off?"

"Yeah. Willie and Mike are in court today, so I thought that I'd come out here and see you. How are you doing?"

"Terry . . . Mike and I . . . should've warned . . . you about . . . Cleve. I should've . . . warned you. When I was . . . away from him . . . I'd forget. That's what . . . happened."

"I don't know much about him and from the little that Mike's said, I'm not sure that I want to know. Did you love him?"

"No, fear . . . was what . . . kept me there. He kept . . . a gun . . . beside the bed. He said . . . that if . . . I ever left . . . he'd find me . . . and kill me."

"But you did leave," he pointed out to her.

"I was supposed . . . to have died . . . that day. That was . . . my plan. I knew that . . . Cleve . . . wouldn't take . . . me to the . . . hospital. Trap was . . . a mouse. All of the . . . bikers called . . . him a mouse. He always just . . . stood in a . . . corner and never . . . made a sound."

"So you knew that Cleve wouldn't take you to the hospital and you thought that Trap would be too scared to," he made sure that he understood as she nodded.

"I guess you . . . could say that . . . Trap gave me . . . Mike," she smiled.

"Mike is so insanely crazy about you that at times it makes me sick. He talks about you non-stop. This has been so hard on him," he sighed.

"I know. I think he . . . gets mad sometimes . . . when I don't . . . remember. Terry . . . I don't like . . . remembering . . . Cleve. Those times . . . were awful. He'd do things . . . to me . . . "

"Stop," he held his hand out. "I don't want to know. Whatever he did to you isn't any of my business. That part of your life is between you and Mike."

"Mike told me . . . that we were . . . going to have a . . . baby. He said that . . . I lost our . . . baby. Do . . . you know . . . how?"

"Jill, I really think that you should talk to Mike about that."

"It was . . . awful?"

"Yeah, it was awful," he confirmed.

"What time is . . . Mike testifying?"

"I'm not sure. Probably after lunch. Why?" He hoped that she wasn't thinking of wanting to talk to him now about the restaurant shooting, of all things.

"Take me . . . to the . . . courthouse," she demanded.

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"I was awful . . . to him last . . . night. I need to . . . be with him."

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" He asked as he helped her to her feet.

"Yes. Let me . . . get my shoes. Then we'll . . . tell Paul."

***MJMJMJ***

Back at the courthouse, Dr. Conti was now and the stand. The questions started after he was sworn in and gave his name and credentials. "Dr. Conti, you worked on a number of the victims that were brought in that afternoon, did you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"What was the extent of the more serious injuries that you assessed that afternoon?"

"I treated everything from concussions, severed spinal cords to severe brain injuries."

"Are you currently treating any of the survivors for neurological injuries?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is the prognosis of that particular patient?"

"She's recovering, but it's been a slow, arduous process."

Mike was out in the hallway when Terry stepped off of the elevator with Jill. "Terry, have you lost your mind? What's she doing here?" He hissed as Terry and Jill strolled over to him.

"She wanted to be with you. I couldn't tell her no," he explained as he managed to look sheepish.

"You're as bad as I am," Mike sighed as he shook his head. "Jill, you really shouldn't be here."

He knew the questions that the D.A. was going to ask. After all, they'd gone over them just the day before. However, he didn't know how Mr. Cummings' lawyer was going to react if she came into the courtroom. He'd been fighting fiercely to keep the survivors from the courtroom. So far, he'd succeeded by having the majority of them put on his witness list.

The bailiff stuck his head out of the door. "Officer Danko, you've been called to the stand."

"I don't like this," he hissed at Terry as he walked into the courtroom.

Mike walked in, followed moments later by Terry who slowly led Jill to seats in the back row. Mike walked to the witness stand and was sworn in before he took his seat. Mr. Miller glanced toward the back of the room and was instantly on his feet. "Your honor, I object to Mrs. Danko's presence in this courtroom!"

"Your honor, Mrs. Danko has every right to be present," the D.A. argued.

"I don't see her name on either side's witness list, therefore, I'm overruling your objection, Mr. Miller. Mrs. Danko may remain where she is," the judge decided.

Mike looked toward the back row, meeting Jill's eyes as the D.A. approached the stand. "Please state your name."

"Michael Jonathan Danko."

"You're an officer with the Santa Costa Police Department?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you currently married to one of the survivors of the accident?"

"Yes, sir," he cleared his throat as he answered.

"What is your wife's name?"

"Jill."

"Can you tell the court how you came to be aware of your wife's accident?"

"Two fellow police officers came to our apartment and told me that she'd been injured in a bus accident."

"What were you originally told about Jill's injuries?"

"Jill had been crushed under several seats and had been deprived of oxygen for several minutes. She had a lot of cuts and bruises to her entire body. I was told that she'd suffered a severe brain injury," he took a sip of water as Jill's eyes never wavered from him.

"How severe was this brain injury?"

"Jill was in a coma for eight days," his eyes met hers as he kept wishing that she didn't have to hear this.

"So, she's okay now? I mean, she's sitting in the back row of this courtroom, so she must be okay," the D.A. motioned toward the back of the room to where Jill and Terry were sitting.

"No, she's not 'okay' now."

"Please tell the court what life is currently like for Jill."

He sighed and took a deep breath before he began speaking. This was why he hadn't wanted Jill sitting here today. "Jill struggles with memory loss," he began as his voice began shaking. "Her right side is weak, so she has trouble walking and keeping her balance. Because of this, she falls a few times a day."

"How has this affected your life together?"

"It's been hard," he choked up before clearing his throat. "She doesn't remember me. The life that she remembers happened before she met me."

"No further questions."

"Good afternoon, Officer Danko," Mr. Miller greeted Mike as he approached the stand. "You said that your wife's injuries have made it difficult on the two of you. Where is your wife living right now?"

"At the home of one of my bosses," Mike was unsure of where Miller was going with his questioning.

"Where are you staying?"

"I'm staying at the same residence."

"So, although you claim that your wife doesn't remember you, you're continuing to live together as man and wife?"

"Objection! Relevance!" The D.A. roared as he jumped to his feet.

"Sustained. The witness may answer."

"I don't know how he expects me to answer," Mike complained.

"You're living together as man and wife, are you not, Officer Danko?"

"We're living under the same roof," Mike hedged, wondering what difference it made if he was having sex with Jill. After all, she was his wife. He'd almost be expected to have sex with her, although that wasn't happening at this time.

"Terry," Jill pulled his head down so that she could whisper in her ear, "is he wanting . . . to know if . . . we're having sex?"

"It sounds that way," he whispered back.

"Why does that . . . matter?"

"Let's go out into the hall," he took Jill's hand and led her out, making eye contact with Mike as they left.

He took her out into the hall and led her to a nearby bench, where she sat and buried her face in her hands. Terry felt helpless. He'd never been good at getting her to calm down. That had always been Mike's specialty. "What business . . . was it of his . . . whether we're . . . having sex . . . or not?"

"He was just being a jerk, Jill. He's a typical lawyer. Are you okay? Do you want some water or something?" He asked.

"I just want . . . to know why!" She cried out as the doors flew opened and Mike strode down the hallway. Terry had never seen him so pissed off, except for the night that Jill had been shot several months before. He pulled Jill to her feet and held her as close as he could as she began to cry.

"That's why I didn't want you in there," he whispered into her hair as he held her to his chest. "It's okay. I want you to do me a favor and let Terry take you back to the cottage."

"No, Mike," she clung to him desperately.

"I'm going to go to the precinct and change clothes. I'll be home in about an hour or so. Terry, take her home. Now," he ordered, kissing Jill fiercely before tucking her hand into Terry's arm.

Terry walked Jill down to his car and helped her in. "Do you want the top up or down?" He asked as he got behind the wheel and started the engine.

"It doesn't . . . matter."

"Jill, relax. He's going to be home soon," he assured her as he pulled out of the parking garage.

"He's mad."

"At you? I don't think so. He worries about you a lot. He always has. Do you remember earlier when I asked you if you loved Cleve and you told me no?" She nodded. "How about Mike? Do you love him?"

"Does he think . . . that I don't?"

"I don't know. He hasn't said one way or the other," he looked at her as he got on the freeway.

"He's a . . . good friend," she smiled shyly as she watched Terry shift gears.

"That he is."

She sat back in her seat and tried to think. Her feelings had been in such a jumble for days now. Mike's smile was brilliant and lit up his whole face, especially when he first walked in the door in the afternoon and saw her waiting for him. She wondered if he'd always looked at her like that. She loved his eyes. They always had a special look in them when he looked at her. A look that she knew was reserved specially for her. She knew that he loved her. He told her so all the time. She'd told him that she loved him a few nights before after the nightmare about her wrists, but she hadn't said it since. Did she love him, too? She knew that she was no longer afraid all of the time. She wasn't nervous or walking on eggshells anymore. So, was it love? She still wasn't exactly sure.

***MJMJMJ***

She was sitting on the edge of the pool an hour later when Mike came out and sat down beside her. "Did Terry leave?" He put his feet in the water.

"He had a . . . date."

"Did you want to get into the pool?" He asked as he looked at her. She slowly nodded as he got into the pool and helped her in with him. "I'm sorry about this afternoon," he apologized as they made their way to the deep end of the pool.

"I just don't . . . understand," she held onto the hem of his t-shirt.

"What don't you understand?"

"What difference . . . does it make . . . if we're having . . . sex or not?"

"It doesn't, babe. He was just being an ass. Come on, let's do your pool exercises, and then we'll get out and have dinner. I sent Paul home, so it's just the two of us," he smiled as she grabbed onto the side of the pool.

"Mike?" She called out as he began swimming laps.

"Yeah?" He stopped to tread water as he looked at her.

"Are you mad? Are you mad . . . that Terry took . . . me to court?"

"I'm not mad at you," he smiled. "Come on, I'll cut you some slack for once. Let's get out of here and go eat."

Later that night, she woke up from a nightmare with tears streaming down her face. She sat up and continued sobbing as she wiped at her face. This dream had been awful, by far the worst one, yet. Was it real or was it once again her over-active imagination? She climbed out of bed and used the walls to make her way next door to where Mike was sound asleep. "Mike?" She whispered in the darkness as she watched him sleep. She bit her lip, hating to disturb him.

He instantly jolted awake when he heard his name being called. He sat up and turned on the lamp before rolling over to find Jill standing at his bedside. "What's wrong?" He couldn't help but notice her tear-stained face. "How'd you get in here?" He noticed that she was standing there holding onto the edge of the mattress, her crutches nowhere in sight.

"The wall," she explained. "I was . . . dreaming."

"Come on," he moved over and patted the bed as she crawled under the covers beside him. "What were you dreaming about?"

"We don't go . . . out anymore. Do we?"

"To restaurants?" She nodded. "No, not very often. Do you remember what happened that night?"

"Some of it. I keep . . . dreaming about . . . it. You're sad . . . about it. That's why . . . they won't . . . talk to me."

"Who? Willie and Terry?"

"When I ask . . . them if we . . . had a baby . . . they . . . tell me to . . . talk to you."

"Baby, I'm very sad about it and it's very hard for me to talk about. It crushed both of us so badly," he brushed her hair from her shoulders.

"I hadn't . . . told you. That night . . . I mean," she played with the buttons on his pajama top.

"Your plan was to tell me when we got home, but we never made it that far," he clasped his hands over hers.

"He's in jail?" Mike nodded. "Then it's okay."

"Well, it's not 100 percent okay, but it's getting better. I think that when we finally have a baby, then everything will be 100 percent okay."

"So we planned . . . it?"

"We had been trying for over a year when you got hurt that night."

"I'm surprised . . . that I was . . . able to . . . get pregnant . . . after what he . . . did to me."

"Baby, I wish that I hadn't left you alone when he came to town. I wasn't here to protect you from him and I'm having a very hard time forgiving myself for that."

"Have you always . . . thought that it . . . was your job . . . to protect me?"

"Since the day that I met you," he smiled. "And it's a job that I'll take any day of the week and twice on Sunday."

"You do your . . . job well," she touched his bottom lip with her fingers.

"Most of the time."

"You know that . . . you can't always . . . be there. Even if you'd . . . been on that . . . bus that day . . . it still would . . . have happened."

"I know."

"So should I . . . go back to . . . my own room?" She asked as she reached up to run her hand through his hair.

"Do you want to go back to your room?" He asked in a tight voice as he tried to keep his libido in check. After all, he'd told her that he was going to follow her lead.

"I don't know," she whispered as she bit her lip. She moved her hands up and wrapped both arms around his neck as she pulled him closer to her. "You smell so good," she breathed as she hugged him.

"You once told Willie that if you were blindfolded and put into a room with 30 men, you could pick me out just by touch and scent," he teased as he bent down to kiss her.

As he kissed her, she could feel his erection against her hip. The feeling of it brought back too many memories of those nights with Cleve. Of him shoving into her as she screamed from the pain. She suddenly felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if she needed to fight back. "Mike?" She murmured through his kiss.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm not sure . . . that I'm ready . . . for this," she said as he reluctantly pulled away, his breathing harsh and ragged with desire. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he forced himself to say through his ragged breath, although right now nothing was further from the truth. "That's why God invented cold showers."

"I am sorry," she said as her eyes welled up with tears.

"It's okay. When it's right, we'll both know it. Stay here while I go take a shower," he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. "A long, cold one," he muttered under his breath as he walked across the hall to the bathroom.

Standing under the icy needles of the shower, Mike began to wonder if they were ever going to get back to the way things had been before the accident. Then he felt ashamed of himself for thinking that way. After all, none of this was Jill's fault. As he'd told her just moments ago, when the time was right, they'd both know it. He had to believe that.

**A/N: Okay, I promise that with the next chapter the teasing will come to an end. **


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimers: I wish! No seriously I don't own 'The Rookies.' However, the story and my universe are mine.**

**Summary: Mike and Jill invite the guys and Lt. Ryker over for a barbecue as they finally reconnect. This chapter is rated a hard M for a very good reason.**

Chapter 14: Storms and the Time Finally Becomes Right

Lt. Ryker was in the Watch Commander's office late the next afternoon when he heard a light knock on his door. "Come!" He shouted as the door opened and Mike walked in. "What do you need, Danko? I have a lot of work to do."

"We're barbecuing tomorrow out at the cottage. Jill wanted to know if you'd care to join us," he was nervous as he looked at the floor.

"How's she coming along?"

"She's doing great. She has a doctor's appointment this afternoon, as a matter of fact. Paul thinks that Dr. Conti might decrease her therapy sessions."

"That's great. So she hasn't had any problems making her way around the property or anything like that?"

"No sir. She has an area that she particularly likes and she tends to spend a lot of time out there. Just her and Trap's dog."

"Mary Kate's tree," the older man guessed as he looked at Mike.

"Sir, Jill didn't know—" Mike stopped as Ryker waved him silent.

"Don't worry about it. What time should I be there tomorrow?"

"Two o'clock?" Mike suggested as the lieutenant nodded. "Great! I'll tell Jill that we'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Danko."

***MJMJMJ***

In Dr. Conti's office, Jill was demonstrating her walking prowess. "Do you depend on the crutches or can you go from place to place without them?"

"I use the . . . wall sometimes."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. We're going to take your crutches away from you and give you this," he held a metal cane out toward her. "Your next step is to graduate from this to your own legs. I want you to continue practicing your balance as much as possible. I have to tell you that I'm very pleased with your progress."

"It seems like . . . it's taking forever," she complained as she hefted the weight of the cane in her hand.

"How's your memory coming along?"

"A little better. I kind of . . . remember losing our . . . baby. I kind of . . . remember doing things . . . with Mike. The rest is . . . patchy."

"Have you talked to your friends?"

"Not in a few . . . days. They're coming over . . . tomorrow."

"I want you to ask them for stories. Stories are a good way to jog your memory."

"Okay, thank you."

"You're welcome, Jill. I'll see you next week."

After Paul brought Jill home, she set out to practice with her new cane. It took her a little while to get used to less support, but she quickly got the hang of it. After greeting the horses and feeding them carrots, she looked around. In one corner of the stable, she spotted some fishing rods. Trap walked into the stable as she was looking at the rods. "Hi," she said as he walked over to start cleaning the stable. "Are there fish . . . in the lake?"

"Yeah, there's catfish in it. Do you even remember how to fish? You have to remember that you're married to a city boy now," he teased her.

"What do you . . . use for bait?" She ignored his jab at Mike.

"Crickets and grasshoppers, just like when we were kids. Do you want me to try and get you some?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes alight at the prospect of doing the one thing that she'd loved most as a little girl. Back before the world went crazy on her.

"Do I also have to bait your hook or can you handle that?"

"You never had . . . to bait my . . . hooks. I'm going for . . . a walk now. When you see . . . Mike . . . tell him."

"I'll tell him where to find you," he finished her sentence for her as she walked out. He smiled at seeing how happy a simple fishing rod had made her.

"Come on, Domino," she called to the dog who was lying outside the stable door. He gave a happy bark and took off after her.

She made her way out to her tree and sat down under the leafy shade of it and thought about what the doctor had said. She wondered if there were any happy stories or if everything was pathos and tragedy like a Greek play. The night before she'd been almost asleep when Mike had returned from his shower. She felt guilty about stopping things before they'd gotten too heated. One part of her brain and her body that desperately wanted Mike to make love to her. Then, there was the other part, the resistant part, that was still too scared. That was the part that still held too many memories of too many nights in a locked room with Cleve. Of that feeling that she was being split in two by his too hard thrusts into her body.

She thought of the dream that she'd had the night before. The dream that had led her to seek out the warmth and security of Mike. There'd been a small girl and something had kept her away from Jill, even though the child kept calling for her. Jill felt as if she'd had the dream before, too many times to count. There'd been other dreams the last several nights, but none of them had been as frightening as the one from the night before.

She was still deep in thought when Domino got up and ran off, barking happily as he went. She looked over to see who he was barking at, and smiled when she saw Mike walking toward her. "Don't get up," he called out as she started to rise. He sat down beside her on the grass and kissed her. "How was your doctor's appointment?"

"I got a . . . new toy," she smiled as she showed him the cane.

"Paul was telling me," he smiled back as Domino came back over and flopped down between them on the ground.

"Dr. Conti was . . . telling me that . . . he wants us . . . to share stories . . . tomorrow when . . . Willie and Terry . . . come over."

"We can do that. Lt. Ryker accepted your invitation and will be here tomorrow at two. Is that okay?"

"That's wonderful," she smiled as she pulled Mike's head closer and kissed him, laughing as the dog began growling low in his throat. "I think . . . Domino's jealous of you."

"Well, he should be," he grinned as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth as she followed suit.

"Are you going . . . to need another . . . cold shower?" She teased as she pulled back from him, feeling flushed and slightly breathless.

"Probably," he admitted as he rested his forehead against hers.

"Did you take a . . . lot of them . . . when we were . . . first together?"

"Sometimes too many," he sheepishly admitted.

"I'm flattered," she teased as he grinned. "I have to . . . tell you . . . something."

"What do you have to tell me?"

"Terry was asking . . . me this the . . . other day. He asked me . . . if I love you. It made me . . . start thinking."

"That can sometimes be a bad thing," he teased her.

"I'm serious."

"I'm sorry. What were you thinking about?"

"I do. Love you . . . I mean. Let me try . . . this again," she sighed deeply as she reached for his hand. "I love you, Mike."

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her. She'd told him that she loved him several nights before after her awful dream about her wrists, but she hadn't repeated it since. He figured with her still spotty memory, she might've forgotten that she'd said it. He remembered the first time she'd ever said those words to him. They had been terrifying for her to say. He knew that they were words that she never expected to say to another person in her life. "I love you too, baby," he whispered huskily as he kissed her once again as he lay down and pulled her down into the soft grass.

She clutched at the front of his shirt with her hands, still unsure of how far she wanted to take things, but at the same time, unsure of what to do with her hands. She sucked in her breath as he gently kissed and nipped at the side of her neck, just below her ear. Her memory took her back to a summer night at the drive-in when he'd first found that particular spot. She'd never known sensations like that existed. That spot had quickly become a favorite spot of his. He'd quickly learned that if he kissed that spot exactly right, she was putty in his hands.

She sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck as he continued kissing her neck and throat. But soon the grass started making her back itch uncomfortably. "Mike," she whispered, trying to ignore the grass.

"Shh, you're interrupting my snack," he teased as he unbuttoned the top button of her shirt.

"The grass is . . . making my back . . . itch," she complained. "I'm probably getting . . . attacked by ants."

"You do realize that you're ruining the mood," he sighed, feeling far more irritated than he'd intended. Not to mention he was so hard that he ached.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she fought not to cry.

"Me, too," he whispered back as he rested his forehead against hers. "Give me a few minutes and we'll walk back to the house." When they got back to the house, he stopped in the doorway and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to take a walk. I'll be back in a little while."

"Do you want . . . me to come . . . with you?"

"No, you stay here and rest. I won't be long," he said as he stalked off.

He walked back to their tree and sat down under it. He felt guilty for feeling as frustrated as he'd been feeling the last several days. It was just hard to equate their how physical their relationship had always been to what was currently going on. 'Give her time, Mike,' he scolded himself. After all, they had nothing but time. She'd been doing so well with everything else that he knew that it was only a matter of time before things returned to normal in that area, as well. He'd been willing to give her space once upon a time. He could give her space again now. But he also made the conscious decision that it was no longer a good idea to let her sleep with him. He was getting to the point where he wasn't sure he could trust himself any longer. After all, there were only so many cold showers a man could take.

***MJMJM***

Trap was watching TV in his tiny house when he heard a light tapping on his door. He opened the door, surprised to find Jill standing there. "Jill, is there something wrong?" He stepped aside to let her inside.

"This looks like . . . a doll's house," she smiled as she looked around the tiny living room, instantly enchanted.

"Thanks, I think," he was unsure if she'd just complimented the house or made fun of it.

"I meant in . . . a good way," she turned to face him. "Can I . . . talk to you?"

"You can always talk to me. Do you want something to drink? I have cokes or lemonade."

"Lemonade's fine," she walked over to his sofa and sat down. "It's kind of . . . embarrassing."

"What's embarrassing? What you want to talk to me about?" He asked as she nodded. "I won't tell Mike if that's what you're worried about."

"It's kind of . . . about Mike."

"Like I said, I won't tell him," he handed her a glass of lemonade.

"But you told . . . him about my . . . dreams," she reminded him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think he'd tell you that we talked."

"He didn't," she admitted. "I kind of . . . guessed. Trap . . . do you remember . . . the other house? Cleve used to . . . hurt me so . . . badly."

"I know that. Mike's not Cleve, Jill."

"I don't know . . . what you're talking . . . about."

"Yes you do. That's why you're here. You should be talking to Mike, not to me. Jill, I don't know everything that Cleve did to you behind that door, and I really don't want to know. Hearing it was awful enough. I'd hear you and I'd sometimes hear the headboard hitting the wall."

"That wasn't the . . . headboard. That was me," she said as Trap cringed. "One night I . . . bit him. When he . . . forced me . . . anyway, I bit him. He picked me up . . . and threw me at . . . the wall. I don't remember . . . much else . . . that night. Only that it . . . hurt a lot."

"Jill, please believe me when I tell you that if I could've gotten into that room, I would have."

"Then he would've . . . killed you and I . . . would've had nobody. Does Mike know . . . all of that?"

"I don't know what he knows and what he doesn't. You'd have to ask him."

"Trap he wants . . . to have sex . . . and I'm so scared!"

"Has he said anything? Has he made any threats?" Trap felt his blood starting to boil.

"No, nothing . . . like that. Part of me . . . wants it, too," she admitted as she felt herself blush. "But then I . . . remember those . . . nights and I . . . freeze."

"I think you're trying to rush things," he smiled at her. "But I've got an excellent idea. Why don't you go and talk to Mike and explain to him how you're feeling?"

"You really think . . . that I should?"

"Yes I do," he walked her to the door and ushered her out before closing it behind him. "Damn in, Mike! You have cold showers, not to mention two hands," he said under his breath after he'd closed the door.

Mike was sitting by the pool when Jill came back from Trap's. After asking Paul his whereabouts, she made her way out to the pool. "Can we . . . talk?"

"What's on your mind?" He pulled a patio chair out for her as she sat down.

"I'm a little . . . embarrassed," she stared at her hands as he smiled at her. "I wish that . . . I could remember . . . if it was . . . good between us. But all I . . . remember about sex . . . is pain. When you were . . . kissing me last . . . night I felt . . . you against me. But my mind . . . wasn't with you. It was with . . . him and I . . . couldn't get past . . . the pain."

She wiped at her face, unaware that she'd been crying. Her emotions felt as if they were all over the place.

"Jill, when it's time, we'll both knew it. I hope that you don't think that you have to give it because of me. Do you feel as if I've been pushing you to make things to back to the way they were before you got hurt?" She appeared confused as he continued. "Maybe I have been, I don't know. I was thinking while I was on my walk, and I think it'd really be best if we stayed in our own beds."

"Mike—"

"I'll come to you if you have bad dreams, and I'll even sit by you until you go to sleep, but I can't sleep with you. I'd never be able to forgive myself if I hurt you the way that he did."

"Mike I need . . . to be with you."

"I know that, and I need to be with you. But right now, I can't. Come on, let's get changed and get into the pool."

The next morning, Mike looked in on Jill before he went out to get things ready for the barbecue. He was cleaning the grill when she walked out onto the patio. "Good morning," he greeted her as she walked over to the patio table. "There's orange juice and bagels, if you're hungry."

"Why didn't you . . . wake me up?" She accused as she poured herself a glass of juice and sat down to watch her husband.

"Because you looked like you needed to sleep. Trap came by and left you some bugs," he made a face as he pointed to a covered container.

"Crickets!" She exclaimed happily as she peeked into the container. "Do you want . . . to go . . . fishing with me?"

"No thanks. I'm a city boy," he grinned as he continued cleaning the grill.

"You don't want . . . to go?" She asked, feeling somewhat disappointed. She felt as if he was trying to distance himself from her and it made her sad.

"Baby, I have a lot of work to do before Lt. Ryker and the guys get here. You go and I'll check on your progress in a little while," he promised as he walked over and kissed her chastely on the cheek before going back to his cleaning.

She frowned as she picked up the container and hobbled toward the stable, where she grabbed a fishing pole and headed for the dock. Mike had been acting strangely ever since their conversation of the day before. Except for kissing her goodnight the night before, he hadn't touched her in any way, shape, or form.

She sat down on the edge of the dock and baited her hook before casting her line into the water. She didn't know how she could make him understand how fearful she still was. She wondered if she'd been that afraid before. She knew the mechanics of sex. It was just the concept of actually enjoying it that seemed so foreign to her. She was beginning to wonder if they should just 'do it' and get it over with. That way, she could get over this fear of the unknown, and Mike could stop taking cold showers. Maybe then they'd both be happy. Or at least Mike would.

"Catching anything?" She turned to find Lt. Ryker standing there.

"Hi," she smiled up at him. "Not yet. Sit down. Please?"

"So, do you bait your own hook or do you take them over to Mike?" He teased as he eased himself down beside her.

"My grandfather . . . taught me how . . . to fish when . . . I was small. He'd never bait . . . my hooks for . . . me. Or take the . . . fish off. I don't think . . . Mike know how . . . to fish."

"I used to have to bait Mary Kate's hooks for her," Eddie fondly remembered. "She hated handling worms. What're you using for bait?"

"Crickets. Trap caught . . . them for me. Mary Kate . . . was your wife?"

"Yes. I told you about her a long time ago. Do you remember?"

"Not really but . . . I don't remember . . . a lot of things. I think that . . . it's causing problems . . . between me and Mike."

"What kind of problems? Would you like me to talk to Mike and talk some sense into him?"

"No please don't. It's all my . . . fault."

"Honey, none of what's going on right now is your fault. Mike's stubborn. I know this. Now, I can talk to him and knock some sense into him. All you have to do is say the word."

"No," she shook her head as she brought her line up. "Did you watch . . . the weather . . . this morning?"

"The weather? Why?"

"Is it going to . . . rain later?"

"There's a storm out at sea. But it might never make it this far. You don't like storms?"

"No."

"It'll be fine. I'll tell Danko where he can find the flashlights and the candles in case the power goes out. Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Yes," she decided. "We'll tell Mike."

He didn't understand Jill's mood, but he thought that maybe a walk would help her think and sort things out. This was the first time he'd seen her since right after the accident. It was hard for him to see her the way that she was now compared to the Jill that he normally knew. That Jill wasn't afraid of anything. This version of Jill was unsure of herself and her emotions. The last time he'd been out at the house with her, he'd almost gotten her killed. It had been hard for him to forgive himself for that. Anybody with half a brain could see how much he adored her, but he'd be hard-pressed to explain just why it was that he felt the way that he did about her.

They walked out to the tree and sat down under it. "Mike was telling me how much you love this tree. I haven't been out here to this tree in a very long time."

"Because of . . . Mary Kate?"

"She loved this tree. I proposed to her under this tree. And she died under this tree," he said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad that you love this tree as much as she did. So you're talking much better. And you're getting around much better. But the memory is still giving you problems?" He guessed as Jill nodded.

"Do you know . . . the stories? About me . . . and Mike?"

"No, but Mike doesn't share that part of his life with me. We're not that kind of friends. Have you talked to Gillis and Webster?"

"You knew about . . . Cleve?" She asked instead.

"Well, I know what I read from his rap sheet."

"Rap sheet? He'd been arrested?"

"Yes, but he'd also been committed. He'd been in a hospital for the criminally insane for three years," he told her as her eyes widened. "Are you okay hearing this? I thought that Mike had already told you."

"He may have . . . but I don't . . . remember. He's not . . . comfortable . . . talking about . . . him. So I guess . . . I have to be . . . okay hearing it."

"Jill, I won't tell you anything that you're not ready to hear. I don't know what you remember and I don't know what Mike's already told you."

"Mike told me . . . that you shot . . . Cleve," she took a deep breath so that she wouldn't stutter as badly as Lydia had taught her. "I remember a little . . . about that night. I'm not surprised . . . about the mental hospital. When I was with . . . him he did some . . . awful things to me. I won't go . . . into the details."

***MJMJMJ***

Back at the house, Mike had just fired up the grill when Terry and Willie showed up, both bearing paper bags full of goodies. "We brought buns, pickles, chips, and beer," Terry announced as they walked onto the patio. "Where's Jill?"

"She took a walk with the lieutenant," he answered in a short voice as his two friends looked at each other.

"That doesn't sound good," Willie put his bag on the table.

"Well it gets her out of my hair for a little while," he mumbled under his breath as the guys gave each other another look.

"Trouble in paradise?" Terry joked as he put the beer in the ice chest and poured bags of ice over it.

"I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with you two."

"Sex," Willie commented as Mike glared at him. "It always come down to sex."

"Believe me, William, it can't come down to something that isn't even happening," he said as he lowered the cover on the grill.

"Mike, you knew that you were going to have to give her time," Terry reminded his friend.

"I know. I get so angry and frustrated at her, and then I get even angrier at myself for acting this way! And today, I guess she senses the tension that's emanating from me, so she's pulling away. It'll work out. Hell, it has to," he stopped talking as he noticed Jill and Eddie walking toward the patio.

Jill smiled as Terry and Willie got up to greet her. She then walked over and sat down in her chair beside Mike. "What's wrong?" She noticed how all three men had gotten very quiet when she sat down.

"Nothing. How was your walk?" Mike smiled at her.

"Interesting," she answered cryptically.

The guys, Jill and Ryker sat about the table telling stories all afternoon and into the evening. Some of the stories did jar distant memories in Jill's brain, but most of them didn't. They were still fun to listen to most of them. As the evening wore on, she actually felt herself relaxing around Mike once again as she listened to him and his friends talk. "Mike never did . . . tell me how he . . . got hurt by . . . a stock car," she pointed out as Mike, Willie, and Terry collectively groaned. "What? What's wrong?"

"I was trying to rescue you," Mike explained. "Some guy who had a grudge against me took it out on you. He lured you to a race track and he had you in the car with you. For some stupid reason, I got out of my patrol car and was about to fire a shot at him when he hit me with the fender of his car."

"He told me . . . he was a cop," she remembered as Mike sat up in his chair. "You got so mad . . . at me . . . and so did he," she pointed at Eddie. "He was almost . . . scarier than Cleve. Almost, but not . . . quite," she shuddered at the two disparate situations.

"Jill, why didn't he want to meet me and Terry?" Willie asked as her heart jumped into her throat.

"He didn't like . . . cops. If you met him . . . he knew you'd . . . figure out that . . . he was no good."

"Mike being out of town must've been a dream come true for that scumbag," Terry said in a tight voice as he finished his beer.

"I don't want to . . . talk about him . . . anymore," she declared as the four men looked at her. "I want to . . . talk about Mike," she grinned as she looked around the table.

"Of course, her favorite subject," Terry teased as the other three men laughed.

"Wait, I thought that Jill was Mike's favorite subject!" Willie argued.

"I do have a question for Mike," Ryker said as everybody looked at him expectantly. "This has been on my time for some time, Danko. Why'd you leave the military? It's true that you were making much more money there than you were ever going to make as a rookie cop."

"I left the army for a lot of reasons, sir. But the main one was to save my marriage," he smiled at Jill as he reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"Oh, before I forget, don't drink too much tonight, gentlemen. Firearms qualifications are tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.," Ryker pointed out as all three men groaned. "I knew that would make everyone happy."

Jill had no idea what the lieutenant was talking about, but it didn't make Mike or the guys very happy. Everybody continued talking until long after the burgers had all been eaten. The lightning started flashing in the sky just after the sun had gone down. "Jill, it seems that you were right. It is going to storm," Eddie said as he stood up. "Danko, come with me and I'll show you where the flashlights and stuff are."

Jill looked across the table at Willie and Terry after Mike had followed the lieutenant into the house. "Was Mike mad . . . earlier?"

"He's mad at himself, Jill," Terry told her in a gentle voice. "It doesn't have anything to do with you. Well it does, but not in the way that you think."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive. So, when do you think you'll be coming home to the apartment? I've been watering your plants, by the way," Willie informed her.

"I have plants?" She'd never had plants before.

"Yeah, a huge Boston Fern."

"I'll be home . . . soon. When's the trial . . . going to be over?"

"Early next week. I don't know how many witnesses the defense is going to call. Please tell me that you don't want to go back," Terry said.

"No, I was . . . just wondering."

"Okay, babe," Mike walked back to the patio. "We're all set in case the power goes out. I have flashlights and about a dozen candles."

"That's good," she yawned as Mike sat beside her.

"Are you getting tired?"

"A little," she admitted.

"Okay, we get the hint," Terry looked at Willie as they stood up.

"No, I didn't . . . mean anything. You don't have . . . to leave," she protested as Terry walked over to her chair.

"It's okay," he said as he knelt down in front of her chair. "We'll have a lot more get-togethers like this when you come back home."

Mike helped Jill to her feet as the three men walked to the carport to leave. "We'll talk to you in a few days," Terry kissed her on the cheek before him and Willie got into the car.

"We'll see you in the morning, Mike!" Willie called out as he shut the passenger door.

"Eight o'clock, Danko," Ryker reminded him. "Get some sleep, young lady."

"I will," she promised as she yawned, more loudly this time.

The rain started falling as Mike and Jill walked through the back door. He walked her into the living room and settled her into a chair. "Stay here. I'm going to clean up outside. I'll be back in a few minutes."

She curled up in the chair as she listened to the rain hitting the windows. She rested her head against the back of the chair and was soon asleep. When Mike walked back a few minutes later, he smiled as he stood in the doorway watching her. He listened as the storm lashed at the house. He knew from experience that she wouldn't sleep long. He walked over and lifted her into his arms as she sleepily opened her eyes. "You smell like smoke," she complained as she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. I'll take a shower in a few minutes," he walked down the hall to her room and laid her on the squeaky bed before going over and removing her nightgown from her dresser drawer and bringing it over to her. "Do you want to take a shower when I'm done?" He asked as she nodded, still half-asleep. "Okay, I'll make sure to save you some hot water."

After he left the room, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. She wondered why he'd never told her about Cleve being committed. The news of the commitment didn't really surprise her. After all, she'd lived with him for five years. She'd always thought that he was certifiable. Her mind was flashing back to a foggy night in the woods and being held securely by Mike. But again the flashes didn't make any sense. Maybe Mike could help her put the pieces together when he came back.

She smiled when he re-entered the room a few minutes later. "Come on, I'll help you take a shower before the storm really hits," he walked over and helped her to her feet.

"I can do it," she insisted stubbornly as she pulled free from his grasp.

"Okay, he relented, beginning to wonder if he'd once again said or done something wrong. After all, he seemed to be doing that a lot the past several days. "You'll holler if you need me?"

She nodded before grabbing her cane and making her way to the bathroom. After closing the bathroom door, she leaned against it and took a deep breath. "You can't back out . . . this time, Jill," she mentally told herself as she slowly removed her clothes, struggling with the buttons, as usual.

She didn't know why she knew that tonight was going to be the night. She thought it had something to do with the storm, but she wasn't sure. All she knew was she couldn't say no this time. She knew from her experiences from Cleve that if she got Mike worked up one more time, he was just going to take what he wanted and that would be that.

She stayed in the shower as long as she could in order to waste time. It was only when the water turned ice cold that she finally got out of the tub. She tried to will herself to relax as she struggled with her gown. After all, it couldn't possibly hurt any worse with Mike than it had with Cleve, right? And Mike wasn't drunk. Maybe it wouldn't even take very long.

In Jill's room, Mike was sitting on the edge of the bed wondering what was taking her so long. He'd been listening for any sounds from the bathroom indicating that she'd fallen, or needed help, but there was only silence. Finally, after more than half an hour, she appeared in the doorway, her face ghostly white and her dark eyes huge and scared. He sighed as he realized that her past was once again trying to reclaim her. He'd seen that look too many times early in their relationship. He forced a smile as he held his hand out toward her. "Babe, relax. You look like you're about to be executed."

She let out the breath she hadn't realized that she was holding as she slowly hobbled over to the bed and shyly took his hand. "Can I ask . . . you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you . . . tell me about . . . Cleve? About the hospital? Eddie told me."

"I don't know," he answered her honestly, although he had told her some of it, just not all of the details. "I think it was because you were having so much trouble believing that he was dead. I guess I figured that telling you that he'd been committed would've been that much more confusing to you. Forgive me?"

She nodded as she played with his fingers, something that she'd always done. "I wasn't surprised. Did he escape?"

"No, he played the system and they released him. After all, he was manipulative," he reminded her as she nodded. "Now, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Are you afraid of me? You can tell me the truth. I'm not going to get angry."

"I can't tell you . . . no again," she whispered as he strained to hear her.

"What're you talking about? Jill, listen to me. If you're not ready, all you have to do is say the word. That's the way that it's always been with us. I'm not Cleve. I'm not going to force you. I'm not going to threaten you with a loaded gun beside the bed," he told her as her face went even more deathly white. "I know the stories, baby. You told me."

"All of them?"

"I don't know. Let's just take things one step at a time, okay?"

"I'm remembering . . . so many things. Why can't I remember . . . us?" She asked as her eyes filled with tears. "I'd rather remember you . . . than remember him!" The word 'him' came out as a strangled scream.

"It's okay. Do you remember the night when you first asked me to stay with you?" She slowly nodded. "You let me hold you all night long. That rarely ever happens. It was nice," he smiled as she tentatively smiled back.

"I don't like . . . to sleep close."

"I know, that's why holding you that night was so nice. We can just do that tonight, if that's what you want. If things go further, that's terrific. If not, there are other nights. You know what? I'll be right back."

He came back moments later with several of the candles that Eddie had shown him. He placed them in different places around the room and lit them as he turned to smile at her. "Ambiance," he blew the match out.

Though she thought the candles were a romantic touch, she was still unsure as he walked over and pulled the blankets back on the bed, getting under and beckoning for her to join him. She got under as he pulled the blankets over the both of them before slipping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest. "Your heart is . . . beating so fast," she pointed out as she put her head on his chest. "It sounds like a . . . drum." He didn't answer her, he just laid there drawing lazy circles on her back, something that he knew would eventually drive her crazy. "My hands," she said suddenly as Mike stopped moving his fingers.

"What about your hands?" He asked innocently as he glanced down at her. She'd asked the same thing the first time they made love.

"What do I . . . what am I supposed . . . to do with them?" Her look of confusion deepened when Mike burst out laughing. "Don't laugh!"

"I'm sorry, baby." He apologized as he kissed her forehead. "You can put your hands wherever you want them to be, okay?"

She once again settled into his arms as feelings of confusion continued to overwhelm her. She finally put her hand over his chest so that she could feel the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. Neither of them said anything for several minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. She felt herself beginning to relax under his gentle fingers, as they traced larger and larger circles on her back. She began to squirm as they gradually moved lower. "Don't," she protested as he moved to a particular spot on her lower back. She didn't know why she didn't want his fingers there, but he immediately stopped.

"I'm sorry. Would you like for me to kiss you?"

"That would be nice," she breathed as he tilted her chin upward and gently put his lips over hers. She liked kissing him. Kissing him was familiar and something that she was used to. Kissing him made her stomach feel all fluttery and strange, like riding a roller coaster.

She sighed into his mouth as the kiss deepened and his arm tightened around her, pulling her even closer to him. After a few minutes of slow, deep kisses, he moved to that one spot on her neck, the one that always made her feel as if she was on an elevator where the floor had dropped from under her. He began kissing and gently nipping at the tender skin between her neck and her collarbone, causing her to squirm and wiggle in delicious torment. She could never remember feeling like this before.

After feasting on her neck for several tortuous minutes, he pulled away, causing her to stare at him in confusion. She was wondering why he'd stopped when she was starting to feel so . . . strange. "Now I'm not sure what to do with my hands," he confessed, laughing as she blushed a deep shade of red. "You're so cute when you blush like that."

"Do I always . . . get so embarrassed?" She asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable by her discomfiture.

"Not as much as you used to, but it's okay," he assured her as he forced her to look at him. "Your shyness is one of the things that I love about you."

"I still can't believe . . . that things are . . . really good," she confessed as she bit her lower lip. "You're sure that . . . I don't do _that_?" She asked, referring to oral sex.

"No, and I don't expect you to. But, it's okay."

"But, I let you do _that _to me."

"It took a long time, but yeah, I go down on you," he bit back a smile as her blush got even darker.

"I told you . . . why I don't do _that_," she whispered as she averted her eyes from him.

"Yes, you told me and again, that's okay. We touch and we kiss," he said as he kissed her to emphasize his point. "And everything has been absolutely wonderful for the past five years."

"Are you sure?" She asked, doubting that things could be that good.

"I'm positive," he assured her once again as he smiled down at her before once again claiming her lips with his own.

When he pulled away, she lightly traced his lips with her fingertips before reaching her hand up and drawing him back down to her. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she was sure that Mike could hear it, too. Those strange feelings soon returned, leaving her feeling confused and bewildered. She finally pulled back from him, feeling as if she couldn't breathe. "I can't breathe," she whispered as she pressed her hands tightly to his chest.

Staring into her eyes, he could see the different emotions that were swirling there. He wanted to take things just a little further, but he wanted to make sure that she was ready for him to go further. "Baby, can I touch you?" He asked on a ragged breath as he trailed kisses along her cheek down to her neck and shoulder.

Touch her? The question caused her to stiffen up momentarily in his arms. It took her a minute to relax and let out the breath she'd been holding. After all, this was Mike. He'd been nothing but slow and gentle since that day she'd awakened in the hospital, not knowing who he was. To demonstrate his intent, he took his palm and placed it over her still clothed breast, instantly feeling her nipple harden under his hand. She was finding it harder and harder to breathe as she stared into his blue-green eyes. She lightly moaned as he kissed her once more, as he slowly moved his fingers over her breast through the gown.

Feeling suddenly too warm, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair, holding him closer to her as he continued devouring her mouth with his own, their tongues mingling and battling with each other. After several minutes of passionate kissing and caressing, he reached up and unbuttoned the top button of her gown, reaching inside to touch her warm, bare skin, as he smiled at her quick intake of breath. He was aching with his own arousal, but he didn't dare move too fast. He was almost afraid of what would happen if she changed her mind again. When he got no objection after one button, he became bolder and unbuttoned the rest, opening her gown to his hungry mouth and hands. Pushing her gown off of her shoulders, he kissed his way down her newly-bared skin.

"Oh God, Mike," she sighed loudly as she felt his mouth close over her nipple, teasing it to an even stiffer peak with his tongue, before moving to her other breast and repeating the torment, smiling wickedly as he heard the delicious sounds coming from his wife's mouth. Her fervent cries were going straight to his groin, causing him to mentally slow things down. She stiffened up once again as he traced his fingers slowly down her belly to the top of her panties.

Sensing her reticence, he moved back up and kissed her once again, slow, lingering kisses that were making her dizzy with . . . what she didn't know. He moved his hand down once more to her breast, before slowly moving his way further down. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt his fingers on the outside of her panties. The strange feelings intensified when she felt him lightly stroke her. She didn't understand what was going on in her body. Her body didn't even feel as if it belonged to her anymore.

She couldn't stop the moans coming from her throat as she felt Mike once more close over her achingly erect nipple with his lips as he continued lightly touching her through her panties. She instinctively reached her hand down to press his fingers more firmly to her. She closed her eyes as he pressed against her harder, rubbing her in light circles as she wriggled under him.

He could feel how wet she was as he kept up his firm touch on her. Keeping up the same touch, he slowly began kissing his way down her body, expecting her to resist him at any time. When he didn't get any, he continued his journey, all while still touching her. Her cries were starting to become frantic, so he knew that she was getting close. He decided that he wanted more skin to skin contact, so stilling his questing fingers, he lifted the hem of her gown and lifted it up and off of her body as she assisted him along the way. He then reached down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs as she hesitantly raised her hips to help him along.

She'd never felt more naked in her life as he moved back up, and kissed her once more. As they shared another long kiss, he gently opened her legs and began touching her once again, as her breath hitched at the sensation of his fingers on the most intimate part of her body. "You are so damn wet," he breathed in her ear as he rubbed the most sensitive part of her with his thumb, causing her to give out a sharp cry. "You feel so good."

Had it felt this wonderful in her former life with him? She didn't know what he was doing to her, but she wanted to feel more of whatever it was that he was doing. He very obviously knew what he was doing with his hands and his mouth. Maybe that was why she'd finally let him do _that._ All she knew was that she could no longer think coherent thoughts as he once again began moving down her body.

She felt his hands on her knees as he opened her legs. He kissed and nibbled on the inside of her thighs before moving in between her legs.

This must be what sky diving felt like, she thought. That feeling that your stomach was dropping out from under you. Her hands threaded into his hair as she seemed to feel his tongue _everywhere._ She remembered something about roamin' hands and rushin' fingers. Mike had told her that. There was a storm outside just like tonight. She felt as if there were springs deep in her belly, coiled so tightly that she felt as if she'd burst if the tension didn't dissipate. The tension became tighter . . . tighter . . . "Come on, baby. Let go," she heard Mike urge her as he entered her with two fingers.

She screamed loudly as the tension exploded into something so wonderful that words couldn't even describe it. Her whole body felt watery and boneless as she still felt Mike gently flicking at that sensitive part of her as her breathing gradually returned to normal, although she was still letting out the occasional moan.

She slowly opened her eyes as she felt Mike move back up to gather her in his arms. She could feel his arousal pressing against her hip as he kissed her. "That was . . . _wow_," she couldn't find words as he pulled back to smile into her eyes.

"Is it all right if I get out of my clothes?" He asked, noticing the slight look of terror that crossed her face. "Things are getting a little tight."

"I'll do it," she bit her lip shyly as she carefully took the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head. She noticed the medallion that he wore around his neck. She'd noticed it before, but never in such an intimate setting. "Your mother . . . gave you this?" She looked at him as he smiled.

"Yeah, when I went into the army. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers. Jill, if you'd rather that I take my pants off . . . "

"No, I'll do it," she took a deep breath as she reached down to the button at the top of his pajamas. Biting her lip in concentration, and something else that she couldn't identify, she managed to unfasten his pants as his erection immediately sprang through the fly. "You need to . . . stand up."

He got up from the bed as his pants dropped to his ankles and he stepped out of them before kicking them to one side. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, he took one of her hands in his own and guided it to him. "You don't go down on me, but you love to touch me. And, I love to watch you touching me."

He guided her hand as she wrapped it around him. After moving her hand with his for a few strokes, he finally removed his hand and allowed her to continue on her own. He groaned loudly as she moved her hand up and down his hard shaft, at first her touch was slow and tentative, but she got gradually faster as her confidence grew.

Judging by the sounds that he was making, she guessed that he liked what she was doing. She rubbed her thumb around the velvety tip as a shudder ran through his body. "I guess it's kind of like riding a bike, huh?" He gasped as he tried to think of state capitals, or movies starring Clark Gable, anything to slow things down a little.

She couldn't get over how he felt in her hand. He was so hard, and yet his skin was so soft, all at the same time. For the first time, she found herself wondering if he could make her feel as good as he had with his mouth a little while ago. This was the first time she could remember actually wanting to have sex. "Mike, I want you," she found herself moving up to whisper in his ear.

His eyes flew open at her request. "Are you sure?" He asked her.

"Yeah, I want you," she repeated, as she placed her hand behind his neck and pulled him down so that he was covering her body with his own.

She whimpered as he teased her several times with his hardness before slowly entering her, groaning as he felt the wet warmth of her engulfing him. "Are you okay?" He asked as his blue-green eyes met her dark brown ones.

"I'm wonderful," she pulled his head down to kiss him as he began to move, slowly at first to give her time to get used to him, and then gradually faster at her urging. She wrapped her legs around his calves as her cries became more urgent as she moved her hips up to meet his thrusts. She dug her nails into his back and her face into his shoulder as that wonderful feeling of tension coming unleashed roared through her once again.

Mike felt the delicious feeling of her clamping down around him as she cried out into his shoulder. He cried out her name as he thrust deeply into her one more time before spilling himself inside of her.

She could barely move as she felt Mike raise himself off of her. He got out of bed, blowing out the candles before rejoining her in bed. She felt slightly sore, but in a nice way as he pulled her into the hollow of his shoulder as she listened to the still rapid pounding of his heart as he lightly stroked her back. Something told her this was their usual routine after making love. "Are we always . . . that loud?"

"Most of the time," he answered drowsily as he continued stroking her back, knowing that she needed to be held and caressed after making love.

"What do we . . . do for . . . birth control?"

He pulled back to look at her. Birth control had never seriously been an issue during their marriage, although Jill had been on the pill while they were dating. They'd often joked about a book that she owned about caution and precaution. "Are you worried about getting pregnant?"

"No, not worried. I just don't . . . want you to get . . . angry if I did," she said in a subdued voice as she glanced up at him.

A huge smile broke over his face as he hugged her even closer to him, so close it was as if their two heartbeats were one. "I wouldn't be angry. I'd love nothing more in this world than to have a baby with you."

"Really?"

"Really," he repeated as he once again let his fingers do a leisurely exploration of her body.

She whimpered as his fingers touched her intimately once more. "Do you always . . . torture me like this?" She gasped loudly as she reached down to still his fingers. "You're making me . . . crazy."

"But, crazy in a good way, right?"

She didn't answer as she just cuddled closer to him. She didn't realize that she'd fallen asleep until the thunder woke her up. She sat up, pulling the sheet up to cover up her nakedness. The lightning lit up the room in brilliant flashes of light. She glanced over at Mike, who was laying face down, his face scrunched up into his pillow. She jumped as a loud crash of thunder rattled the windows as the rain began to beat against the panes.

He stirred at the sound of the thunder and sleepily rolled onto his side and opened his eyes, surprised to find Jill sitting up wide awake. "What's wrong?" He asked, his voice still thick with sleep as he reached for her.

"I didn't mean . . . to wake you up," she apologized as she struggled to keep the sheet pulled up modestly to cover her bare breasts. "I know that you . . . have to get up . . . in a few hours."

"Baby, I'm not going to be able to sleep knowing that something's upsetting you," he propped himself up on his elbow.

"I'm not upset. I guess the . . . storm woke me up. You must think . . . my fear of . . . storms is . . . silly."

"No. The very first time that we were together there was a storm. It was romantic."

"Can I ask a . . . question?" She asked, saying the words slowly so that she wouldn't stammer so badly. He nodded as she continued. "You said last night . . . you wouldn't be upset if . . . we had a baby. Terry told me that there . . . was an accident. He or Willie wouldn't tell . . . me anymore. They said that I . . . needed to ask you. Does it have anything . . . to do with why I . . . don't want you touching . . . my back?" Seeing the sadness that crossed over his face, she was afraid that she'd said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry. You don't have to say . . . anything. It can wait."

"It's okay. We'd gone out to dinner and a man came in with a gun. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I found out early the next morning that you'd been pregnant."

"You didn't know?"

"You never got the chance to tell me. The guilt still tears me up. But that was then and this is now," He pulled her into his arms as he hands began to roam over her body as she sighed blissfully.

She woke up the next morning and reached out for Mike, only to find an empty bed. "Mike!" She sat up and called out for him.

"I have to go or I'm going to be late," he walked into the room carrying a cup of coffee in his hand. "I'd take you with me, but you'd be too much of a distraction," he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her. "Do you think that you'll be okay for a couple of hours by yourself?"

"I'll be fine," she smiled as she kissed him back. "Do good on your . . . test."

She managed to get dressed with a minimum of trouble. After getting dressed, she unlocked the front door and made her way to the stable where she found Trap already hard at work. "Morning," he muttered as she walked over and sat on a bale of hay. "I'm surprised that Mike left you alone."

"I'm not alone. I'm with you," she pointed out as she watched him. "Can I ask you . . . something?"

"That depends."

"Did you know that . . . Cleve had been committed?"

"Not until after he was dead. Mike told me. Please don't tell me that you're surprised that he was in the nut house. Your friends sure weren't happy when they learned about him."

"What're you talking about?"

"Well, there was fact number one, which is the fact that Mike went out of town and left you alone knowing full well that Cleve was in town. Fact number two is the fact that he didn't bother to inform your friends what he was capable of. How could Mike have left you alone with him in town, Jill? I don't understand you at all. The guy claims to care about you, yet he leaves you alone with someone that he knew you were afraid of."

"Mike told me that . . . you're the one who took . . . me back to Alabama," she quickly changed the subject. Obviously, there was some kind of bad blood between her friend and Mike.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Did you know that Mike . . . and I almost had a baby? I have trouble seeing . . . myself with a baby."

"The lieutenant told me about the shooting. I didn't know about the baby. I'm sorry," Trap said in a short voice, indicating that he didn't want to talk about that either.

"Is my being here . . . bothering you?"

"Right now you're keeping me from my work," he commented through gritted teeth as she got up and began hobbling out of the stable. "Jill, stop! I'm sorry."

"I can help you with . . . some of your work," she offered with a smile.

"No, go sit back on your hay bale. Keep me company," he looked at her and grinned as she couldn't help but grin back. It almost felt like being seven again and skipping out on chores.

When Mike arrived home shortly after noon, he was worried at first when he didn't find Jill in the house. He walked out of the house and walked toward the stable where he found Jill and Trap outside in the yard. "There you are!" He smiled as he walked over and kissed her on top of her head.

"How was your test?"

"Piece of cake," he smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. "It's a nice day for a ride. Would you care to join me?"

"That sounds nice," she smiled back as she pulled his head down and kissed him.

He saddled up two of the horses and helped her onto her mount before getting on his own horse and taking the reins of her horse in his hand. Neither of them said a word as they made their way to the tree. He dismounted from his horse first before walking up to help her down, holding her close to him before walking over and sitting down under the shade of the tree. "So, what were you and Trap discussing?" He wrapped his arms around her.

"He wanted to know why . . . you left me alone with Cleve."

"Babe, I know that he's upset, but he doesn't know the whole story. I didn't want to go. You were the one who insisted that you'd be okay. I told you that. I messed up by leaving or at least not warning the guys what Cleve could do. No matter what Trap has led you to believe, if I'd known that you were going to be in danger, I would've never left you alone. You believe that, don't you?" He tightened his grip around her.

"You really didn't want . . . to go?"

"I really didn't want to go. You'd just lost the baby. I was worried sick about you the entire time that I was gone. I tried calling you that last day and I immediately knew that something was wrong. I still have nightmares about getting there five minutes too late."

"Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to go back to . . . our apartment," she craned her head around to look at him.

"Babe, Paul and the doctors are worried that you won't be able to handle stairs."

"I'll manage," she declared stubbornly. "I mean, this is . . . nice, but it isn't home."

"I'll tell you what. The trial is due to wrap up early next week. As soon as that's all squared away, I'll take you home. Okay?"

She turned herself completely around until she was facing him. She felt herself blush at the look in his eyes. "I missed you today," she smiled as she leaned forward.

"I missed you, too," he murmured as he kissed her. "Believe me, babe, I would've much rather have spent the morning with you in bed than at the firing range with Willie, Terry, and the lieutenant."

He wrapped his arms around her before lowering her down to the soft, warm grass. "Have we ever made . . . love outside before?"

"Let me think," he teased as he lightly brushed her hair from her eyes. "I believe that we've utilized every room in our apartment, but no, I don't believe that we've ever made love outside before."

"What if someone . . . comes out here?"

"Who? Domino? I don't think Trap ever comes out here. And I really don't think the horses are going to say anything," he grinned as Jill put her hands over her eyes and groaned. "But if you're really that uncomfortable, we can go back to the house."

"Let's go back to the . . . house," she decided as he slowly stood up and helped her to her feet.

**A/N: Sorry that this chapter ran on for so long. Another chapter or two and this will be all wrapped up. Thanks for coming along for the ride.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimers: Nope, they're still not mine.**

**Summary: Jill and Mike begin making plans her return to home and a more normal life.**

**A/N: This will be the last long chapter. There will be an epilogue after this to wrap everything up.**

Chapter 15: There's No Place like Home

Monday morning, Paul took Jill into town for her appointment with Dr. Conti, who was pleased with her progress and told her so. "Good. I want to go . . . home," she announced as she stared defiantly at the doctor.

"I'm sure that you do. But I also understand that you live in a second floor apartment. I don't think you're quite ready to master stairs right now."

"I want to go home," she repeated slowly and with growing anger in her voice. "I'm tired of having a . . . babysitter."

"So now you think of Paul as a babysitter? Jill, I know that you think that you're ready to go home, but again, I have to tell you that you're not. Maybe in another few weeks. But not right now. Why don't you step outside and let me talk to Paul?" She angrily hobbled out and motioned to Paul that the doctor wanted to talk to him. The doctor was grinning wryly when the therapist stepped in. "She's a stubborn one."

"So am I. What's wrong?"

"She think that she's ready to go home. Has she been walking without the cane?"

"Not really. She'll use the wall if she's only going a short distance. There aren't any stairs on the property for her to practice. I can bring her back here, but she hates it."

"Have her husband start taking her to their apartment. As soon as she can climb the stairs without the use of the cane, I'll consider releasing her. One more thing, Paul. Tell Officer Danko that the other stipulation is she has to climb the stairs without his help, too."

She didn't say a word during the ride back to the cottage. Paul knew that she was angry, but he also knew that there wasn't anything that he could do about it. Unless she could prove that she was able to stay by herself, she was relegated to having him as her keeper during the day.

The minute that Paul parked the car, she threw the door opened and made her way to the stable.

She walked over to the hayloft and stared up the ladder. After standing there for what seemed an eternity, she threw her cane on the ground and placed her stronger left foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. Clutching the sides as tightly as she could, she slowly made her way up the ladder to the top of the loft, where she finally managed to hoist herself into the hay. She was still trying to catch her breath when Trap came in.

He saw her cane lying on the ground and looked upward. "Jill, are you up there?" He asked as she crawled to the edge and looked down at him. "What're you doing? Are you crazy? What if you'd fallen? Climb down from there before you fall."

"No. I want to go home. They won't let me . . . because they think . . . I can't climb stairs. If I can . . . climb up here . . . then I can climb stairs. Right?"

"Jill, they're just looking out for you. What if you're home by yourself and you fall? I mean, you do still fall quite a bit."

"I want to go home . . . with my husband . . . in our own bed. Mike drives a long way . . . every day just to be . . . with me. He wouldn't have to do . . . that if I was at home."

"You know, doctors just make suggestions. There's no law that says that you have to agree with what they tell you. Like when you leave the hospital when the docs don't want you to. You told me once that it's called leaving AMA—Against Medical Advice. All I'm saying is if you want to go home, fire Paul and go home."

"I can do that?"

"I don't know if you can, but Mike probably can. After all, I think he's the one who hired the guy."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

"Mike won't do it. Saddle a horse for me."

"Jill, you shouldn't go riding by yourself," he argued as she slowly made her way back down the ladder.

"Saddle a horse or . . . I'll do it myself," she threatened as he sighed and did as she asked.

When Mike arrived home after five, Paul was in the kitchen getting things ready for dinner. "Where's Jill?" He asked as he looked around the room for his wife.

"Probably out in the stable keeping Trap from his work," he sighed as he continued chopping. "Did you get her hopes up about the possibility of going home soon?"

"I told her that maybe after the trial wrapped up."

"Mike, she's doing well, I'm not going to deny that. But she's not ready to tackle the stairs at your apartment. However, Dr. Conti said that if she can manage to climb the stairs unaided – that means without the use of the cane or you, he'll release her from my custody."

"She's not in your custody, Paul."

"Well apparently she feels like I'm holding her hostage or something. Anyway to say that she's unhappy would be a gross understatement," he looked at Mike.

"I'll go get her, so that she can get cleaned up for dinner," Mike left the house and walked toward the stable where he found Trap feeding three of the four horses. One of the horses was conspicuously absent, as was Jill. "Trap, where's Jill?" He asked with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

"She went for a ride."

"Alone? Trap, are you crazy? What if she falls?"

"She insisted that I either saddle a horse for her or she'd do it herself. As mad as she was, I think that she would've done it, too. I'm sure that she's at her tree. Do you want to saddle a horse?"

"No, I'll walk," he turned and left the barn.

Jill was lying under the tree, staring up into the leafy canopy as Domino lay contentedly at her side. Suddenly the dog jumped to his feet and ran off, barking happily as he went. She struggled to sit up, smiling as she saw Mike walking toward her. A smile that vanished when she saw the look on his face. "You're mad?" She guessed as he sat beside her.

"No, I'm not mad. I was worried when Trap said that you had ridden off by yourself. How'd you manage to get off of the horse?"

"I'm not helpless, Mike. No matter what you . . . Paul and everybody else . . . seems to think," she answered back angrily.

"Nobody said that you were helpless, baby. But even you have to admit that you're not exactly running on all cylinders here. Your grip in your right hand still isn't the greatest. If you'd fallen, you could've gotten badly hurt."

"But I didn't fall. It's not fair, Mike."

"What's not fair?"

"I know that you drive . . . a long way every day . . . just to be with me. If we went home, you . . . wouldn't have to drive . . . as far. I can take care . . . of myself."

"Baby, until you're 100 percent on your feet, I'd worry about you constantly while I was at work. At least while you're out here with Paul and Trap, I don't have to worry about you falling and lying on the floor helpless for hours."

"Mike, you promised. You said that . . . as soon as the trial was over . . . that you'd take me home," she reminded him as her voice choked with tears.

"I know that I said that. Paul said that Dr. Conti told him that as soon as you can climb the stairs at home unaided, then you can go home for good."

"Then let's go," she said as she held her hand out to him.

"You want to go to the apartment now? Jill, dinner's almost ready and it'll be dark soon. But, I'll tell you what. I'll have Trap or Paul bring you to the courthouse tomorrow and we'll go to the apartment from there."

"Why the courthouse?"

"The defense rested this afternoon. Everything's now in the hands of the jury."

"Is that good . . . or bad?"

"What do you mean?"

"If it was an accident, then maybe . . . he really didn't mean it. I mean, it doesn't seem right . . . for somebody to go to . . . prison for something . . . that was an accident."

"Jill, he was loaded. He'd already had two DWI's before this one. He killed 12 people and injured countless others. Believe it or not, you're one of the lucky ones. One of the people that he injured was paralyzed from the neck down and has to be hooked up to a ventilator."

"But that person remembers . . . the life that they had . . . before that day, don't they?"

"I guess, I really don't know. Is that what's really bothering you? The memory loss?"

"No. Yes. I don't know! The other night . . . was very nice," she smiled as she remembered their lovemaking of a few nights before. "So was . . . Saturday. I used to always . . . be so afraid."

"I know. You told me."

"Oh."

"Jill, talk to me. What's really on your mind?"

"Nothing. I just . . . want to go home. What time should I be . . . there tomorrow?"

"Four o'clock. I'll take you with me to the precinct and you can visit with Lt. Ryker while I change clothes and clock out. We'll grab something to eat and then we'll go to the apartment where you can practice climbing the stairs until your legs give out. Come on, let's go back to the house."

After dinner, Jill got up and began to help Paul clear the table. "You go get ready for the pool. I'll clean up in here."

"I'm not an . . . invalid!" She shouted as she jerked a plate from his hands. "I think that I'm capable . . . of washing a few dishes!"

Paul glanced at Mike for assistance. Mike just held his hand out slightly and shook his head at him. "Okay, then I guess that I'll get ready to hit the road."

Mike didn't say a word as he watched her hobble back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room table. After she'd managed to get the table cleared off, he got up from the table and walked into the kitchen, where she was running hot water in the sink. "Do you want to wash or dry? Don't tell me that you don't need my help. This is our routine at home and you're not going to clean up alone. So, do you want me to wash or dry?"

"You really help me . . . with the dishes at home?" She asked in disbelief. Cleve had always reminded her that washing dishes was women's work.

"If you want, I'll call Willie and Terry right now so that you can ask them."

"You dry, but –"

"But what?"

"Can you wash the pots . . . and pans? They're too heavy."

"I'll wash the cookware. Let me get a dry towel."

The next afternoon, Terry and Willie were standing outside of the courtroom when Paul approached leading Jill by the arm. "I was told to deliver her to one of you guys," Paul said as he led her over.

"Hey, look at you. Mike's running a little late, but he should be here any minute. The jury just came back about 10 minutes ago," Terry explained.

"They have a verdict?"

"It looks that way," Terry said as the elevator doors opened.

"They haven't called us back in?" Mike asked as he walked over. "Hi, baby," he smiled as he kissed her.

She didn't say anything as she apprised Mike in his uniform. While she'd seen the guys in theirs, this was the first time that she could remember seeing Mike in his. It was a sight that was hard to get used to. "Is he out here?" She asked as she looked around at the throng of people who were milling about in the hallway.

"Who, Cummings? No, he's in another room with his attorney. They'll bring him in after everybody else enters the courtroom," Mike explained. As if on cue, the bailiff opened the double doors of the courtroom and let everyone file in. Mike and Jill took a seat behind the prosecutor's table with the other victims and their families. "Are you okay?" He asked as he felt her grip his hand tightly.

"Nervous. Does he look like . . . a monster?"

"No. Would it make you feel better if he did?"

"I don't know," she whispered as the judge entered the room.

After warning the gallery about outbursts, the judge ordered that the jury be brought in before having Cummings stand with his attorney. She craned her neck to get a good look at the man who was responsible for her being a prisoner in a body that didn't do what she wanted it to do most of the time. As Mike had told her, he didn't look like a monster. He just looked like a pathetic middle-aged man whose better days had passed him by. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, your honor," the young man who'd been elected foreman announced.

He then proceeded to read the verdict. As collective gasp went through the courtroom when he was found guilty on all counts. "Order!" The judge banged his gavel to silence the courtroom. "Mr. Cummings, you are hereby remanded into the custody of the California Department of Corrections until the date of sentencing while I will set for June 20th. Court is adjourned!"

As Mike had told her the night before, he took her to the precinct and parked her with Lt. Ryker while he changed clothes and clocked out. "So, how have you been getting along?" He asked as he looked her over.

"Fine, but I want to go . . . home."

"That's understandable. Is something else on your mind?"

"Should I hate him? That man . . . in the courtroom?"

"How do you feel about him?"

"I don't feel anything . . . about him. I mean, maybe if he had two heads . . . or was green. I want to remember . . . that day. Maybe if I remembered, maybe then . . . I'd feel something. I know that . . . Mike hates him. He dreams. I feel him tossing . . . and turning at night. Sometimes he gets . . . up when he thinks that I'm asleep."

"Have you talked to Mike about any of this?"

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"I don't want him to be angry . . . at me because I don't . . . feel anything. I just want to go . . . home and be normal. Nobody will let me . . . be normal," she choked out as he handed her a tissue. "Thank you."

"Jill, I don't think Mike's going to be angry because you don't hate the guy who did this to you. And I agree that normal would be nice. Believe me when I tell you that you're getting there. But I also know from experience that sometimes normal takes time. I'd be willing to bet that by summer's end, you're going to be back in here pacing back and forth and talking a mile a minute once again," he grinned at her as he heard a knock on the door. "Enter!"

"Hey," Mike walked into the office. "Babe, are you ready to go? I told Paul that we'd try to be back at the house by seven."

"Danko, call me later," Ryker ordered as he looked at Jill and smiled. "Come back and visit me, young lady."

"I will."

Neither of them said anything during the short drive to the apartment. Jill looked at the passing scenery, hoping that something would jog her memory. When they arrived at the apartment, Mike parked the car and walked around to her side to help her out. He then led her over to the staircase leading up to apartment number 27, the home they'd shared for the past two years. She took a deep breath as she looked upward to the top of the stairs. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" He asked as he once again felt her grip tighten on his hand.

"Can I see our . . . apartment?"

"When you get to the top of the stairs, I'll take you into the apartment."

"If I make it to the top . . . I want to stay the night."

"Let's take it one step at a time, okay? I promised Paul that I'd bring you back home tonight. Let's compromise. If you make it to the top, we'll come back Friday night and we'll stay the weekend. Fair enough?"

"You won't back out of it?" She gave him a dubious look.

"No. Believe me when I tell you that I also want to get you back home into my bed."

She smiled as she blushed. Since the night when they'd first made love almost a week before, she learned that their relationship was extremely physical. There hadn't been a night since that first night, when one or the other of them had sought out the other one, sometimes more than once a night. Just thinking about it made her feel warm all over. She shook her head to clear those thoughts so that she could focus on the task at hand. "Okay, take this," she handed him her cane. "You wait for me . . . up there." She pointed to the second floor landing. "This might take a while."

"Take your time. If you can't make it all of the way up there tonight, there's always tomorrow. I want you to let me know if you get too tired to continue, okay?" He looked at her as she nodded. "Okay, I'll see you in a little while."

She stared up toward Mike, wondering if just maybe she'd bitten off more than she could chew. Setting her jaw defiantly, she placed her left foot on the first step and forced her right foot to follow. The first four or five steps weren't that difficult. It was after that that things got a little harder. As usual, when she began to tire, her right hand and foot would start to tremble badly. She clutched the railing with her hand as she waited for the trembling to pass. She'd managed to will it away the night before while she was doing the dishes. She'd also managed to will it away while she'd climbed the ladder to the hayloft.

"Are you okay?" He called down to her.

"I'm fine. Just stay where you are."

He grinned, impressed with her determination. Her determination and sheer guts had played a big part in the early part of their relationship. He'd always marveled at what she'd gone through in that house with Cleve. It amazed him that she'd escaped with even a shred of her sanity intact. Terry had told him that they'd had a talk about Cleve when he'd gone out to the house to visit her that day. He told Mike had she'd explained to him that she hadn't planned to live on that awful day when she'd cut her wrists. She'd never expected Trap to step up to the plate and take her to the hospital like he had. Mike was glad that Trap had picked that particular day to grow a pair of balls. He figured that he owed the guy a steak dinner, at least. He looked down the stairs at Jill, who was five steps below him. "You're doing great, baby," he encouraged her.

It was another 10 minutes before she was finally able to get to the top step. "So, did you miss me?" She asked, trying to catch her breath as she smiled triumphantly at Mike.

"Yeah, I missed you a lot," he smiled back as he pulled her close to him. A smile that quickly vanished when he felt how hard her whole body was shaking. "Baby, you're shaking like a leaf. Come on, let's go into the apartment so that you can rest. Then, I'll take you home."

"We are home," she reminded him as he helped her to her feet and led her to the apartment door.

"I meant to the cottage," he corrected himself as he unlocked the front door and helped her into the apartment and over to the sofa. "Do you want some water?"

"Water would be great," she said as she looked around. She slowly got to her feet and using the sofa for support, walked over to a shelf that contained several framed photographs of her and Mike. "I was talking to Eddie . . . about the man who hit the bus."

"What about him?" He asked as he walked back into the living room carrying two glasses of iced water. "Here, sit down and rest."

"Should I hate him? I know that you do."

He smiled as he listened to her talk. In the last few days, the stuttering had diminished greatly. She almost sounded like she had before this whole nightmare had crashed down on them. "I don't hate him, Jill. I hate what he did. He didn't have the right to get drunk and get behind the wheel of a vehicle. He didn't have the right to ruin the lives of every person on that bus and he didn't have the right to ruin the lives of his own family. He has two young children who have to live with what he did for the rest of their lives."

"Where do you go? When you get up in the . . . middle of the night. I feel you get up."

"Usually I just go and sit out by the pool. Sometimes I go to the stable. The horses are good company. They listen and usually they don't talk back," he said as he forced a tight smile.

"Was it better before . . . I talked back?"

"That's not what I meant, baby. Sometimes I just need to think. I can't always talk about what's going on in my head. As for how you should feel about him, I really don't know what to tell you about that."

"I was telling Eddie . . . that maybe I'd feel . . . differently if he were green or . . . if he had two heads or had horns. People who do things like . . . that shouldn't look like regular people. They should look . . . like monsters."

"You said the exact same thing about Steve Wainz. He was the man who shot you in the restaurant that night. The night that you lost the baby. You thought that he should look like a monster. Unfortunately, the bad guys look just like the rest of us. That's why you can't always tell the good guys from the bad guys."

"I know. Sometimes I think that Cleve . . . should've had two heads and eight arms. He was a monster."

"Yeah, he was," he agreed with her. "How do you feel about the fact that he's dead?" He asked, glad that she'd remembered that. She'd finally stopped worrying about him coming back and hurting her or him.

"One part of me is glad. But the other part of me . . . still sees him when I dream. If that part would go . . . away I'd be very happy, Mike. I'm so glad that you're . . . not like him."

"Are you ready to go downstairs so that we can go back to the cottage? Downstairs should be a lot easier."

Later that night, they were lying in the squeaky bed after having made love. He was holding her close to him as usual, just about to drift off to sleep when he heard her say something. "What?" He asked, not having heard her question.

"We can go back to the apartment . . . tomorrow, can't we?"

"Yeah, we'll do the same drill that we did today. I'll have Paul or Trap bring you to the precinct and we'll go to the apartment from there," he answered sleepily as he tightened his arms around her as he went to sleep.

***MJMJMJ***

Jill was doing her exercises the next morning when somebody knocked on the door. "Are you expecting anybody?" Paul asked her, as she shook her head. He opened the door to find Willie standing there. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to kidnap Jill," he grinned as she struggled to her feet. "I'm off today, and Mike told Terry that he was going to have one of you bring Jill into town later, so I thought that I'd save you the trip."

"I'll go get dressed," she said excitedly as she started to leave the room.

"Hold on!" Paul stopped her. "Here lately I don't feel like I'm even earning my pay, anymore. Jill has a strict schedule that needs to be adhered to. She can't just go off gallivanting with you or your friend just because Mike thinks it's a good idea."

"Mike doesn't even know that I'm here. Look, I'm just trying to do you or Trap a favor. If I'm pissing you off, I'll leave," he turned to walk away.

"Willie, hold it! Can we talk outside?" Paul asked as he stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed so that Jill couldn't hear them. "You're not pissing me off. What you're doing is disrupting my work. Jill's doing great, but if I give her an inch, she'll take a mile. Do I come and interrupt you when you're trying to do your work?"

"No, and I apologize. It's just that Mike was telling Terry how much she wants to go home and I thought that I'd take her to the apartment and let her practice on the stairs some more. Maybe I could show her some pictures and try to help her with her memory problems. But it's obvious that this was a bad idea."

"You're as bad as she is about pulling the whole guilt trip thing. She needs to get into the pool. If you'll give me 45 minutes, I'll release her to you."

After finishing in the pool, Paul walked Jill out to Terry's small sports car and helped her into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Paul. I'll see you . . . tonight," she grinned as he shut the door.

"Mike said that you're determined," Willie looked at her as he started the car.

"I am," she agreed. "I want to go home. Can I ask you a . . . question? Do you think that I . . . can drive?"

"You'll have to take that up with Terry."

"Does Mike know that you've . . . kidnapped me?"

"No, but he'll find out when he calls to talk to you at lunchtime."

"How do you know . . . he calls me at lunchtime?"

"Jill, I've known the guy for over two years. He's a creature of habit and one of his habits is calling you at lunchtime. Sometimes he even stops by the hospital to see you at work. Do you think he'll be mad?" He gave her a lopsided grin.

"I don't know. He made a comment . . . that he wants to get me back home . . . to his bed, so . . . maybe not."

"You're talking a lot better."

"Have I ever driven this . . . car?" She asked as she watched him shift gears.

"A couple of times. Jill, give it up. You're not driving Terry's car. Not only would he have my head on a platter, so would your old man."

When they got to the apartment, Jill walked up and down the stairs a few times before Willie led her into hers' and Mike's apartment. "I'll fix us something to drink. There's a photo album in the bottom of that secretary over there," he pointed. "Do you want to look at it?"

"Sure," she hobbled over and removed the large album that Mike had brought her while she was in the hospital. She sat on the sofa and opened it. Some of the pictures took her back to a time when she wasn't sure if she was going to live or die. "These aren't . . . Mike and me," she looked at Willie. "I thought this was the . . . album that he'd brought me . . . in the hospital."

"Mike told us that album belongs to you. That's how we discovered that Cleve was pulling armed robberies," he walked over to the sofa and handed Jill a glass of orange juice.

"Wait! He was doing what?"

"Mike didn't tell you? How much do you remember about when Cleve came back to town a few months ago?"

"Almost nothing. I remember being in the woods . . . and it was foggy. I was running. I remember that he pulled a . . . gun on you and Terry. Everything else is a . . . blank. Tell me about the . . . robberies, Willie."

"He robbed some liquor stores and a bank. We had a sketch of the guy who was doing it. In fact, you almost looked at it. Anyway, he gave you some cock and bull story about coming into some money. He'd also told you that he was dying. We came over to get a picture of him from this album because you'd gone off with him. We didn't know where he'd taken you and we didn't know what he looked like. When I saw his picture in that album, I noticed that he looked like the composite that we had of the robber. So there's a picture of Cleve in that album with an inked beard and a pair of glasses. I'm sorry," he smiled sheepishly.

"Don't apologize. I can't believe . . . I kept any pictures of him. He had money, Cleve. That's how we . . . came to stay in that . . . house. Maybe his father cut him . . . off. I don't know."

"I remember telling Terry when we were looking in the album about how weird it was to see you in pictures in love with a guy who wasn't Mike."

"Love? I never loved him, Willie. I lived in fear . . . of him. I'm sure that Mike's told . . . you everything that he did . . . to me. I mean, he's a man. And men talk to their . . . friends about sex . . . and everything."

"Jill, Mike's never told us anything. We've talked about this before, remember? I told you that it's not any of our business what he did to you. Would you rather see the other album? The one that shows your life with Mike?"

"Yes, that would be better," she smiled as Willie took the album that she was holding and went to get the other album. She remember this album from the hospital and these pictures made her smile, much to Willie's relief. "I still can't believe . . . that I married a soldier," she stared at the pictures.

"He's always telling us that you didn't like him at all when you first met him. He said he wouldn't leave you alone, so you referred to him as a pest."

She continued looking through the pages of the album, trying hard to remember. She traced her fingers along one of the pictures that had been taken on their wedding day. "Mike was a war . . . hero?" She asked, referring to the profusion of medals on his dress uniform.

"I don't know. He doesn't talk much about Vietnam. He doesn't even have his medals and stuff on display. I asked him once about them and he said that they were in a box at the top of your bedroom closet. Do you want to stay here or do you want to go over to our apartment to wait for Mike and Terry to get home?"

"Let's go to your . . . apartment," she decided as she gave the album back to him.

Mike and Terry were on patrol together. As Willie had predicted, Mike wasn't overly thrilled when he called the cottage at lunchtime only to find out that Willie had taken Jill into town for the day. He then tried calling Willie, only to get no answer. He got back into the patrol car and slammed the passenger side door in irritation. "What's wrong?" Terry asked as he looked at his friend.

"I just called the house to talk to Jill, only to have Paul tell me that Willie came by earlier and took her into town. What if she gets hurt?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Mike, give Willie a little credit, will you? He's not about to let her get hurt. We both know how badly you want to get her home. He's just trying to help. Did you call and talk to him?"

"There was no answer. I'll try again later," he sighed as he stared out the window. "I just worry about what he'll ask her."

"What're you talking about? Mike, I'm not going to deny that we used to be morbidly curious about her life with Cleve. But after that night in the woods when we saw what he was capable of, we both realized that her life with him isn't any of our business. Relax, would you? Willie isn't going to upset her by asking the wrong questions."

Back at Willie and Terry's apartment, Jill's sudden silence was beginning to worry Willie. He wondered what she was thinking about and worse, if maybe he'd made a mistake by being the one to show her the other album. "Jill, are you okay? I'm sorry if I've said or done something to upset you."

"I'm not upset," she quickly assured him. "I'm just trying to . . . think." She tried to force all of the flashes that she'd been having over the past several months into something that made some kind of sense. "Did Mike ever tell you . . . how Trap got me to . . . return to Alabama?"

"No, I don't know that story. All I know about Alabama is Mike told us that he met you his very first day on base. He said that the first thing you ever said to him was something about whether he knew that his eyes were different colors," he closed his eyes as he tried to remember the exact words that Mike had told him and Terry.

Suddenly she had a flash of a day at a track and talking to someone with a cap pulled low over their eyes. It had to have been at the high school. There weren't any other running tracks anywhere near the bowling alley in Anniston. A name suddenly popped into her head. "Willie, did Mike ever mention . . . someone named Garry?"

"Yeah, there were even some pictures of the two of them in that album that I showed you. What do you remember about him?" He asked excitedly as he sat in a nearby chair.

"Not much. I don't think he liked . . . me. I think that he thought . . . that I was going to ruin Mike's . . . career or something like that. I also think that he . . . was a hound dog, if you know . . . what I mean," she made a face.

"I know what you mean. Mike told us that Garry definitely liked the ladies, even though he was married."

"I'm very tired. Would it be okay . . . if I went back to our apartment . . . to rest? I promise that I won't . . . do anything stupid," she said as she stood up.

"Come on, I'll unlock the door for you," he followed her out of the apartment to the apartment next door. The apartment that she'd happily shared with Mike before this whole nightmare had started. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm just very tired."

After he left her, Jill made her way slowly through the apartment, trying to familiarize herself with the place. Finally she walked into hers' and Mike's bedroom. She walked over and opened up the closet door, staring at the clothes that were hanging there. The hanging white uniforms brought more brief flashes of memory that were just as quickly gone. She then walked into the bathroom and opened bottles, sniffing the contents, hoping that the smells would conjure up more memories. She then returned to their bedroom, where she stood staring at the carefully made-up bed, trying to remember the last time she'd shared it with Mike. Finally she returned to the living room, where she curled up on the corner of the sofa and tried to force herself to think. She hadn't been lying when she'd Willie that she was tired, but the truth of the matter was that she really wanted to be alone to sort things out without facing a barrage of questions.

***MJMJMJ***

Willie was watching TV a few hours later when he heard thundering footsteps coming up the stairs, followed moments later by Mike entering the apartment ahead of Terry. "Why don't you just come on in, Mike?" Willie called out as he stared at his friend and next door neighbor.

"Where's Jill?"

"She was feeling tired and asked if she could rest at your place. I didn't see any reason to tell her no," he answered as Mike turned and bolted out of the apartment. "Nice to see you too, Mike! Come back when you can stay longer!"

When Mike entered the apartment next door, he smiled when he saw Jill curled up on the sofa, sound asleep. Not wanting to startle her, he went to the kitchen to get a beer and then stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, watching her.

Sensing that she was being watched, she forced her eyes opened and focused on the sight of Mike standing there watching her with a smile on his face. "Hi," she sat up and stretched. "How long have you been . . . here?"

"A few minutes. Are you okay? Willie said that you were tired."

"I'm fine, a little sore. I have a question."

"What would that be?"

"Why are you over there . . . while I'm over here?" She held her arms out to him.

He immediately strode over and pulled her close to him as he kissed her hungrily. "Better?" He pulled back to smile at her.

"Much," she admitted as she pulled him closer to her again. "Mike, I think that . . . I remember Garry."

"Baby, that's great!"

"I think that I overdid it today," she confessed as she buried her head into his chest and just inhaled the scent of him. She wore one of his sweatshirts just because it always smelled like him. At night she sometimes wore one of his t-shirts to bed for the same reason. It was nice to wear when he wasn't with her. He always smelled so wonderful.

"I was a little upset when I called the cottage and Paul told me that you'd come to town with Willie. I thought that we were going to work together this afternoon."

"Mike, it wasn't my idea. Willie showed up. He was careful. He didn't do anything . . . to hurt me. If I overdid things, it was . . . my fault. I'm just anxious to come home."

"Are you really starting to hate it out there that much?"

"I don't hate it. It's just not home. I don't remember this apartment . . . but I know that this . . . is our home. A home that we . . . made together," she pulled away to look at him.

"If you're sure that you'll be okay by yourself, I'll talk to Paul when we get back to the house. Listen to me, though. No stupid chances."

"I won't do anything . . . stupid, Mike. I just want . . . to come home. I haven't even used my . . . cane that much today. That's what . . . Dr. Conti wants. Can I ask you . . . another question?"

"You can ask me anything. What's on your mind?"

"Did we ever go to . . . a track? A running track?" She asked as his face broke into a huge grin. "I'm guessing by your . . . look that we did."

"You came to the high school to watch me run with my squadron. It was the first time that I ever took you out. I asked you to lunch after I finished running. You weren't sure that you wanted to go. We had the waitress from hell. I don't remember her name," he lied, hoping that Jill would provide that information.

"Debbie. She was with Cleve . . . or his brothers. Probably all of them," she said as she made a face. "I think that she's the one . . . who told Cleve where I was. Did he beat me up?" She asked as another flash went through her mind.

"Yeah, baby. I'd never seen anybody who'd been messed up like he messed you up that night when I came to you at three in the morning. You called me and I was furious when I saw you," he remembered as his voice choked up.

"I'm so glad that he's dead," she whispered as she buried her head once more into his chest as he stroked her back.

When they returned to the house, Mike asked her to wait for him by the lake while he talked to Paul alone. The therapist was in the living room leafing through a magazine when Mike walked into the house. "Can we talk?" He asked as he sat down in a chair.

"I think that we need to. You need to talk to your friends. They can't just come over and expect me to release Jill to them. She still has a lot of work to do."

"Paul, you've done a great job under what hasn't always been an easy situation. If it hadn't been for your hard work, I wouldn't have gotten Jill back at all. But she wants to go home. She's been repeating the same mantra for days now and it's getting harder to tell her no. I think that even with the stairs that I can handle things on my own now."

"So, you're dismissing me?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what it comes down to. I don't want you to be angry. I know that you and Dr. Conti both feel that she isn't ready, but she keeps telling me different and I'm the one who knows her. I think that a large part of it is having Trap nearby when she's still battling the memories of her life that she had before me. I want to get our things packed and take her back into town with me tonight," he finished as he stared at Paul.

"Well, she'll remain under Dr. Conti's care for another few months, so I guess that I'll see her on her appointments. Can I talk to her before you leave?"

"She's out by the dock. Tell her that I'm packing."

Jill was sitting on the edge of the dock throwing stale bread to the ducks. "Are you sure that you're ready to be on your own?" Paul asked as he sat down next to her.

"Paul, you've been great . . . but I have to do the rest . . . of this on my own or I'm . . . never going to do it. I hope that you're . . . not angry."

"No, I understand. I don't entirely agree with you, but I understand. You've done extremely well. I didn't think that you'd come back this far when I first started working with you."

"Especially considering how much . . . trouble I gave you."

"Yeah, well there is that. So come and see me when you come in for your appointments with Dr. Conti," he stood up and prepared to walk away.

"Paul," she called out as he turned to look at her, "thank you."

"You're the one who did all of the work. Mike told me to tell you that he's packing, so I'll see you later."

After hearing Paul's car leave, she got up and made her way back to the house and to the bedroom that she'd been sharing with Mike the last several nights. "I thought that you were still outside," he commented as he continued packing their things into a suitcase.

"I'm going to go tell Trap . . . that we're leaving. Unless you need help," she offered as she watched him.

"No, go ahead. I'll come and get you before we leave."

Trap was watching TV when he heard someone tapping on the door. He opened the door to find Jill standing there. "Jill, what're you doing here? Is something wrong?" He stepped aside to let her into his tiny living room.

"No, Mike and I are leaving. I want to go back . . . to our apartment."

"Too many memories, huh?" He guessed as he looked at his longtime friend.

"Yes, but not the ones . . . that I want to have. Can I ask you something?" She asked as he slowly nodded. "That day . . . why'd you take me to the . . . hospital? I remember that the . . . bikers used to call . . . you a mouse. Do you remember?"

He sucked in his breath as he remembered those days all too well. He'd hated the bikers, although he had to admit that some of them had been decent enough to Jill. "You're my friend. I can't believe that I was actually able to get out of the house that day. Do you remember how he always kept the doors locked from the inside? I couldn't let you bleed to death."

"Why Anniston and not . . . Huntington?" She asked, referring to the town where she'd grown up on her grandfather's farm.

"I was supposed to take you to your grandfather. When we got to the Alabama state line, you told me that if I didn't take you to your aunt and uncle instead, you'd get out of the car and hitch-hike there. I think that you met Mike just a few days later. He told me that your wrists were still bandaged when he met you for the first time."

Jill was about to say something more when Mike tapped on the door. "Babe, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Trap."

"For what?"

"For giving me Mike," she whispered as she kissed him on the cheek.

Later that night, Mike was waiting for Jill to get out of the shower. It was wonderful to be able to relax in their own bed and he hoped that Jill would feel the same way. He looked over toward the doorway as he heard the bathroom door open. "So, what were you and Trap talking about when I showed up?" He asked as he pulled the covers back for her to get under them.

"Not much," she said mysteriously as she lay back on her pillow and pulled him down to her. "Thank you for bringing me home."

"I'm just glad to have you home," he smiled as he bent down to kiss her hungrily as he let his hands wander under her gown as she giggled. "What're you giggling about?"

"Is that all you think . . . about?" She was still giggling as his hand traveled up to her breasts. "On second thought, this is . . . all I think about, too. I love you, Mike."

"I love you, too."

_Several weeks later_

It was the day of the sentencing for Albert Cummings. Jill was sitting next to Mike as they waited for the bailiff to bring Cummings into the courtroom. In the past several weeks, her condition had improved a great deal. She was now walking unaided and her speech problems only occurred when she was very tired.

The side door opened and Cummings was led into the courtroom. He glanced across the aisle at where the survivors were all gathered, waiting to hear the sentence. The bailiff called court to order as the judge entered and walked up to his bench. "Will the defendant please rise?" He ordered as Cummings and his attorney rose to their feet. "Mr. Cummings, I've spent the last six weeks talking with some of your victims. While I agree that you never intended for this tragedy to happen, you made a conscious decision to get behind the wheel of your work truck after having had too much to drink. Twelve people paid the ultimate price. Three of the injured will never walk again. Therefore, I sentence you to a term of not less than 15 years and not more than 50 years in the state penitentiary. I want you to sit in your cell every day and think about what you've done, Mr. Cummings. Court is adjourned!" He banged his gavel down to dismiss the courtroom.

Mike and Jill followed the other survivors from the courtroom. "So, how do you feel about going out for pizza tonight with the guys?" He asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Pizza sounds good," she agreed. "Has Terry been complaining about the headboard again?"

"Terry's always complaining about the headboard," he grinned. "I told him that we're making up for lost time."

"I love you," she leaned forward and kissed him.

"I love you, too. Come on, let's go home. The pizza can wait an hour or so."


End file.
